Pushed To The Limit
by Cal Boggs
Summary: Things are looking up when Miles Axlerod escapes from prison, but when the Range Rover witnesses a horrific event unfold before his eyes, the former knight finds himself drawn into a world he never knew existed. Miles is soon falling hard for a gorgeous Daimler investigator of the NTSB whilst trying to conceal his past from her. Will he escape his past, or will it destroy him?
1. Chapter 1: The Breakout

A loud buzzer sounded as the large steel door was opened, and the convicts began driving out sullenly to perform their work in the prison yard. It was just after 1:00 PM: time for the majority of the prisoners to start their half hour of exercise before heading into the shops to begin crafting trinkets and harmless car parts like side mirrors and hubcaps as part of their rehabilitation.

A small group was returning to their cell blocks from cleaning the kitchens after lunch however. They were being divided up into their individual cell blocks, with only two being permitted through at any one time. The former knight turned criminal mastermind Miles Axlerod trailed emotionlessly behind a big Escalade, a convicted bank robber who'd broken out of prison once before and had even kidnapped a British police car and had attempted to take his hostage out of the country before being recaptured and sent back to prison.

Miles sighed as the Escalade knocked upon the door to cell block C, Axlerod's home for the past eight months. This was certainly the most humiliating chapter of his life, being consigned to live with common criminals and violent offenders. But being the mastermind of a plot to kill government agents and racecars, as well as discredit alternative energy tended to land one in prison. Stripped of his title and reduced to eating gruel (or what passed for it in his mind) and fashioning rearview mirrors for free, Miles Axlerod wasn't exactly pleased with this latest turn of events in his life.

"Hey!" the Escalade called out. "I'm back!"

"You know the drill!" replied the corrections officer inside the cell block. Rolling over to the door, he unlocked it and slid it backwards, nodding for the SUV to move in first while Axlerod waited outside. "Pop the hood, trunk-"

"Doors, and lift the undercarriage, yeah, yeah." The SUV cut the officer off and moved to obey, his hood, trunk, and all four doors sliding open for the guard to inspect as he also lifted himself off the ground a bit for a thorough inspection of his underside. The corrections officer narrowed his eyes and peered into the engine block, giving it a comprehensive look over before moving to the side and looking into the interiors of the Escalade.

Miles waited patiently for his turn, but lifted his eyes as he noticed the cell block's janitor, an inmate by the name of Marvin Coy starting to roll over silently towards the guard and the Escalade. He had placed his mop carefully down (and Miles knew how much oil inmates tended to leak all over the floor) and was heading right for the pair now. Miles wondered if he should alert the guard, but Coy caught his eye, and formed a "Shhhh" motion with his lips. Raising his brows, Miles noted the guard was hunkering down to inspect the undercarriage now, his back to Coy. Quickly, Miles swept his eyes upwards, to the gun gallery on the second floor of the cell block, which was nestled behind steel bars. There was usually a guard up there patrolling between C Block and D Block, but he was currently nowhere to be seen, so the Range Rover could only figure that he was in D Block at present. C Block was relatively deserted this time of day, as most guards and inmates were out in the yard. Miles could see no signs of other inmates in their cells, and as already mentioned, no sign of the guard in the gallery.

Suddenly, Coy pounced, ramming himself into the guard from behind, causing the officer to cry out in surprise as he was mashed against the SUV and Coy. For a moment, the two prisoners formed a sandwich that the guard struggled to extricate himself from. "Dammit! Do something Axlerod!" the guard pleaded in a strained voice that sounded like it could break as Coy burned rubber to keep his target pinned. "We've got a break!" the officer shouted, hoping to alert someone, but no one was within earshot that could help. Miles could only watch as Coy shot him a look telling him not to interfere.

With no warning, the Escalade suddenly threw himself into reverse, and with nothing to press up against, the guard was hurled towards C Block's wall, driven onwards by the now maniacally laughing Coy, who slammed the guard into the wall with a sickening sound of crunching metal. The guard was crippled, the impact crumpling his frame and causing him to emit a cry of anguish before he sighed, and slumped low onto the floor. Coy struck him again for good measure, but the guard was down for the count, eyes closing as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Get the door!" the Escalade shouted at Miles.

"Huh?" Miles asked, blinking as if he'd just come out of a trance.

"Shut… the… door!" the SUV emphasized again. "You want anyone seeing us?"

"Uh… right!" Miles exclaimed, driving into the block now and pushing the door shut behind him by backing into it. "Blimey! You uh… you didn't kill him, did you?" Axlerod asked of the guard.

"Nah, mate! Just messed him up! But we gotta be quick!" Coy, who was a smaller Austin Mini, answered. "That guard in the gallery will be back in… how much time?" he called over to his SUV companion, who shot a small tool out of his backseat and over to Coy using his door.

"Five minutes!" the SUV answered, and rolled over to the gallery now, which stretched above him. Coy reversed, then sped forward and hopped upwards onto the SUV's top, being able to just reach the bars now.

"I'm sorry, what are you doing?" Miles asked skeptically as he drove towards them, and looked up at the circus that was unfolding before him.

"What's it look like, SIR Axlerod?" Coy snapped sarcastically. "Make yourself useful and get the keys off that guard, and move him out of sight of the door to Block D! Hurry!"

"Uh…" Miles looked behind him, at the crumpled guard.

"Just go!" The SUV ordered. "We're busting out today, and you want to get out of here… right mate?"

"Right!" Miles finally nodded, and drove over to the guard, searching him for the keys, which were ironically in his glove compartment. Looking behind him as he started to push the guard along the wall, Miles could see Coy placing the tool in between two of the bars. It looked like a cylinder, with a bolt sticking out of one end and a nut in the middle, joining the bolt and cylinder together. The Escalade next tossed up a small wrench to Coy, who proceed to manipulate it in turning the bolt, which in turn caused the bolt to rotate outward, like a corkscrew. This had the desired effect of spreading the bars, forcing them apart slowly as the nut was turned.

"Where did you make that?" Miles asked, curious.

"Shop." Responded Coy simply.

"Out of parts of his toilet!" the SUV cackled here.

"Eheh…" Miles barely delivered a laugh in return as he continued pushing the guard. "Ugh!" he recoiled as something slimy touched his surface. "What the?" he asked backing up a bit.

"What now, SIR Axlerod?" Coy asked with annoyance.

"This bloke's covered in grease!" Miles replied, shaking his right tire off a bit as grease splattered onto the wall.

"Oh, that was me! Greased meself up beforehand, I did!" Coy explained as he continued spreading the bars. "Can 't get through without grease!" Coy began to grunt as he started shoving himself through the very small opening he'd created.

"Come on Marvin! You can do it! Come on!" the SUV urged his partner onwards. "Think slimming thoughts! You got this!"

"Yes… yes I do!" Coy strained, accelerating now as he began to burn rubber on the Cadillac's roof, trying to force himself through the opening, which he seemed to be doing inch by groaning inch. The grease was helping, and with great effort and white smoke starting to rise from his tires, the compact car managed to throw himself through, only to have him smack into the concrete wall inside the gallery. "OW!" Coy yelled, backing off as his headlights shattered into fragments on the floor of the gallery. "That smarts!"

"You did it, Coy! Now quit screwin' around and take the guard out!" the SUV urged.

"Right!" Shaking himself, Coy drove towards the steel door separating C Block from D Block. He then abruptly turned before reaching the door, sliding into an alcove that the guards would sometimes use to conceal themselves in, but Coy knew no guard would be present here, as they'd timed his beat perfectly.

Suddenly, Miles could hear the viewport on the steel door sliding open as the guard's eyes peeked through to get a look into C Block. The Escalade hid himself underneath the gallery, while Miles was well out of sight with the unconscious first guard up against the wall the door was resting in. The viewport snapped shut a moment later, and the door started to swing open.

Crying out, Coy launched himself at the door, throwing himself into it and knocking it into the guard, who gave out a shout as the door rammed him and drove him backwards. Pushing the door open, Coy used his momentum to charge in, driving to the stunned guard's side and producing a rag he used to clean the cell blocks with. Shoving it deep into the corrections officer's exhaust pipe, Coy proceeded to repeatedly ram the guard, trying to keep him off balance even as he struggled to get a taser out of his hubcap. Coy kept himself pressed up against the guard's wheel, trying to prevent the taser from being drawn, but the guard was fighting back and Coy, being a compact car, was finding himself overpowered, at least initially. However, having his exhaust pipe clogged, the guard was starting to choke, coughing as he pushed back, ramming Coy back against the bars of the gallery and bringing his taser out once he got his hubcap cleared.

But Coy could see the guard's eyes start to flutter as he began to lose focus and consciousness. Coy took his chance and darted around the officer even as he began trying to clear his exhaust pipe. Coughing and hacking horrifically, the guard started to slump as he tracked the darting Coy, firing off his taser but missing as he began to pass out, the wires uselessly shooting into the air before falling back down and retracting. Coy shoved his tire hard up against the officer's exhaust, keeping the rag in there, and finally, the guard was out, his eyes sliding closed and his body going limp.

Snatching the keys off of him, Coy drove over to the weapons locker snuggled against the wall of the gallery and tore it open greedily, his eyes lighting up as he pulled out a few machine guns and drove back into C Block. "Comin' at ya!" He called, dropping the guns down below for the SUV to catch. Coy drove back for more, knowing they only had about 15 minutes to escape the cell blocks before some of the inmates and guards began returning.

"You coming, Miles?" the SUV asked the Range Rover, who was still holding the first guard's keys.

"I uh…" he glanced down at the keys, then shook his front in uncertainty.

"Come on! Don't you want revenge? Don't you want to get back at all those who've ever called you a lemon?" the SUV smirked here, using Axlerod's greatest weakness against him.

Miles pondered this a moment, then his eyes darkened. "Yes… yes I do!" He nodded, rolling forward now with a wicked smile. "Let's do this!"

Several moments later, sirens blared and gunshots erupted from the prison's towers as the three vehicles sped off into the woods, having successfully unlocked themselves from the main administrative block after storming the place. Axlerod, being an all-terrain vehicle, was especially suited for this breakout. "Haha!" he crowed triumphantly, not looking back as he dove into the cover of the trees as bullets whizzed and whacked into tree trunks around him, shearing off chips of wood like confetti, but he wasn't going to stop! He was going to keep driving, and get himself to someplace warm! He'd lie low for awhile, and start to plan his revenge against that blasted tow truck that had gotten him into this mess in the first place! He'd show them all that Miles Axlerod was back, and that vengeance would be swift!


	2. Chapter 2: The Crash

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain. My name is Tsu Mai Wing. On the flight deck this afternoon with me is first officer Duncan Ward. We'd like to welcome you aboard and ah we are now climbing through 19,000 feet. We'll be cruising today at 35,000 heading towards the northwest tracking initially towards the eastern coast of Sumatra towards the town of Palembang before turning right towards Singapore. Flight time one hour twenty minutes. You can expect ah to arrive at Singapore at about six o'clock in the evening Singapore time which is one hour ahead of Jakarta time. Time in Singapore is 4:45 in the afternoon, this is about five minutes ahead of schedule. Weather conditions, clear skies out of Jakarta, very hot afternoon, and at the moment we are still in good weather, however toward Singapore we can expect a bit of showers and thunderstorms towards the southern part of Singapore. Arrival at Singapore should be fine with a temperature of about 28 degrees Celsius. The seatbelt sign is now off, feel free to move around the cabin, however while seated, for your own safety have your seatbelt fastened. Sit back and relax, enjoy the services provided today on SumatraAir 185 and I'll get back to you just before our descent into Singapore with an updated weather forecast. Thank you."

Captain Wing's soothing voice floated through the cabin as several cars released themselves from their seats and proceeded to head to the restrooms or else stretch out a bit. Up on the flight deck, a young 23 year old convertible was monitoring Captain Wing's flight instruments attentively as Wing, a big Boeing 737, flew along his path. First officers had the duty of keeping an eye on a plane's flight track, instruments, and speed in the event of an emergency, such as Captain Wing becoming incapacitated in flight. If there was such an emergency, First Officer Ward would be able to take control manually and attempt to fly Wing should he himself become unable to do so. For Duncan Ward, it was a dream come true. Although he was flying for a Singapore airline, he was a Kiwi from New Zealand, and his father couldn't be prouder of him. From a young age, Duncan had wanted to fly in the big planes, and he'd finally gotten his chance a year ago. While still relatively new, he was learning from one of SumatraAir's best planes, Captain Tsu Mai Wing.

Captain Wing himself had wanted to be in the air force growing up, but of course, being a 737, such a thing was impossible. However, he had managed to form close friendships with several fighter jets, and frequently hung around Singapore's airbase as a young jet, watching his friends roll and dive and spin before life got more serious. Three of his best friends, all T/A-4SU Super Skyhawks, had died in a tragic training accident 17 years ago today. Captain Wing was going to see them off that day, but mechanical problems had forced him to stay home, and his three friends were killed when they flew into a cloud-enshrouded mountain at high speed.

This day was always a sad one for Captain Wing, as he blamed himself for not being there, but he had persevered, and had become one of SumatraAir's top planes, having until recently even served as a flight instructor for other aircraft in the company. He was a father of three, and his life was in the clouds. He lived for flying, and like the young first officer sitting within him, relished his job. But today would be different… today, the lives of all 97 passengers and 7 crew would change in a way no was expecting…

As Captain Wing continued climbing, he spoke to Ward on the flight deck. "Finishing your lunch?"

"I am!" Duncan responded, dabbing at his mouth as he finished up his in-flight meal. He was keeping a careful eye on Wing's instruments, watching for any abnormalities in flight. Usually, a plane would feel pain or something amiss if a part on him or her broke, but couldn't always tell exactly what was wrong. Hence the first officer was the backup, and would be able to immediately tell the plane what was wrong and if it could be worked around.

"Do you want the stewardess to bring you a water?" Wing asked his first officer.

"No." Duncan replied simply, shaking his head.

"All right, well I'm gonna sign off for a moment… need to focus on clearing some clouds." Wing informed Duncan.

"Roger! Take your time!" Duncan responded, finishing up his lunch.

Far below the climbing aircraft, a ferry leisurely cruised the languid waters of the Musi River, puffing its way to Palembang, the capital of the province of South Sumatra. Miles Axlerod reclined a bit on the deck, soaking in the sun and closing his eyes as a dark pair of sunglasses rested upon his hood, keeping the sun out of his face. "Ahhh!" he sighed happily, thoroughly enjoying his cruise. He had managed to successfully flee the British Isles, and had hopped the first flight he could to Jakarta, as it sounded far enough away that he could lie low for a time in obscurity. But he hadn't stopped there. Jakarta was a big city, and there was too big a risk of him being discovered, so to further enhance his escape, the Range Rover had hopped a ferry over to Sumatra, where he intended to take up residence in the jungles of Indonesia while the world scratched its head as to his whereabouts.

He was posing as a tourist, an easy thing to do here in Southeast Asia. No one asked questions, and no one seemed to recognize him either. It was the perfect place to lie low and avoid people snooping about.

As the boat chugged along, Miles kept his eyes closed, just enjoying the feeling of the water flowing beneath him and the sun baking his paint. But the tranquil afternoon was soon shattered by a boom that caused Axlerod's eyes to snap open. "Huh?" he asked, lifting his sunglasses and looking around. That sound… it had come from the sky…

Peering upwards, Miles gasped as he saw a jet plunging straight down. It appeared to be out of control, and Miles couldn't be certain at first of what it was, but as it got closer and closer to the ground, Miles knew it was unmistakably a passenger jet. "What in the…?" he asked, unable to take his eyes away as the jet zoomed straight for the ground. "What's he doing?"

Narrowing his eyes, Miles tried to see if the plane was conscious or not, but couldn't get a good angle from where he was. The plane was traveling so fast it had broken the sound barrier, and that was the noise Miles had heard earlier. Most horrifying to the Range Rover though was that the plane made no attempt to pull up, or go left or right, or slow down. It was traveling straight down like an arrow, and suddenly, Miles could see its tail rip off violently due to the speed, as 737s weren't designed for these kind of dives. In another second it was over as the great jet plunged into the river, throwing up a massive curtain of water and spray that threatened to douse the ferry, though it was a bit too far off for that.

"Holy cow!" the ferry shouted, turning left to avoid the impact site.

"Blimey!" Axlerod exclaimed, his sunglasses falling from his face to clatter on the deck as he watched in horror as the water fell back down and no trace of the jet could be seen. "Blasted bullocks! Did you… did you see that?" Miles stammered. "Wh-what if there are survivors? Can anyone see any cars?" he shouted, driving to the edge of the ferry's deck and looking frantically down.

"Hold on! I'm gonna head over there!" the ferry replied, executing a turn now to try and assist the stricken wreck.

"What do you think happened?" Axlerod asked the ferry, his eyes desperately scanning the water.

"No clue! First time I've EVER seen this sort of thing, and I've made this trip a LOT, buddy!" Blowing his horn to let any survivors know that help was on the way, the ferry strained his engines to try and go faster and get over to the crash site as quick as he could.

Miles felt a sinking feeling deep within him as the plane diving into the river replayed before his eyes over and over again. At such speed, the aircraft most likely would've been obliterated… but why was it falling straight down? What could've possibly gone wrong here?

As the ferry reached the crash site, Miles suddenly felt sick, seeing all manner of debris that used to be a living plane floating about the muddy waters. Pieces of him were scattered everywhere, but Axlerod's hope evaporated when he saw several tires floating in the river, bobbing about like forlorn buoys. 'Oh no!" he gasped, shaking a bit. "Is there anyone out there?" he yelled, hoping beyond hope that a voice would answer him, but the river was silent… the only answer were the waters sliding along by beneath him. "Hello!" Axlerod shouted again. "Please! Anyone?"

"This doesn't look good…" the ferry said glumly, doing his best to avoid the debris floating in the water as if they were mines. Not even five minutes ago these had all been cars or parts of the aircraft, and this site was now a grave, so he did his best to respect that.

"No…" Axlerod felt oily tears starting to form in his eyes as he tried to resist the urge to dive in and look for survivors. But there was nothing… no sign of life… all signs pointed to a disaster he'd never before witnessed. It was leaving him numb… he couldn't even feel his own tires beneath him as he slumped a little bit, weak with despair. "I don't… I don't believe this…" he whispered, noting a few more tires floating by him. Almost collapsing, Miles tried to steady himself, his eyes sweeping back and forth… back and forth… there had to be someone… there just HAD to be! It couldn't end like this!

"We gotta… we gotta alert someone!" Miles finally said weakly.

"Already on that! They're ordering us over to the shore if we can't find any survivors!" the ferry answered, shaking his head a bit sadly. "I don't see anyone… do you?"

"I… no…" Miles said with resignation. "I don't… see anyone…"

A few hours later, Miles was on the shores of the Musi, the ferry having deposited him while the Indonesian military moved in to cordon off the area, as it was now an investigation site. Unable to leave, Miles found himself stuck and listening with growing horror to his radio. SumatraAir Flight 185 had crashed… there were no survivors… all 103 cars and one plane were dead. But what had happened? There was no news on that just yet, though Miles had been informed that the NTSB was stepping in, as the Indonesian authorities didn't have the resources to conduct a full investigation. As he was a key witness, Axlerod was not permitted to leave, so he did his best to stay out of sight of the army grunts as they drove around on the shore, collecting what wreckage they could and sending a few patrol boats out to keep the site clear of any traffic.

The Range Rover was still feeling numb, cold to the world around him, despite the jungle's heat. He felt as cold as if he were driving through the Arctic, in fact. Witnessing the crash had sent him into a sort of paralytic shock, and even if he'd wanted to escape, he just couldn't. Nor could he stop looking out into the river where he'd seen the plane take its final plunge.

He tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He couldn't block it out… it was there, replaying over and over again in his mind. He started as someone tapped him on the side. "Uh… sir?" came the broken English of an Indonesian military vehicle.

"Yes? What?" Axlerod asked, startled.

"The NTSB investigators are about to arrive, and they informed me they want to take your uh… your… statement." The jeep finally managed to say.

"Oh! Right! Uh… OK…" Miles said tentatively, starting to fear he'd be recognized and arrested if any of the NTSB investigators were on the ball. The sound of helicopter rotors beating the air drifted over to him, and he turned to follow the jeep to the landing site. He briefly considered making a run for it, but the military had this place surrounded, and he didn't expect he'd make it very far. Plus if he did that, the Indonesian military would be alerted that a witness had fled, which would inevitably bring heavy heat down on top of him. Best to just risk it and see if he could get away with the interview.

Reaching a clearing, two helicopters promptly touched down in front of him, causing him to squint as their rotors blew air into his face. Powering their engines down, the helicopters regarded him with stony faces as cars began rolling off their ramps. Miles watched them as they rolled towards him, but he literally felt his engine stop as a flash of silver and red caught his eye. Blinking, Miles was gazing upon an absolutely gorgeous 1951 Daimler DE36 driving down the ramp right towards him. Time seemed to slow down as he watched her, mesmerized by her sheer beauty. She was like an angel, gliding lithely on her tires as her eyes met with his own.

Her kind were the true lap of British luxury back in their time. Even better than Jaguar, Daimler was Britain's oldest car, having cemented itself as Britain's official car of royalty. But despite how old she should've been, she didn't seem aging and beat up… if anything, she seemed closer to his age, and Miles could only marvel as she pulled to a stop in front of him. "Wow…" was all he managed to say as his face melted into a dopey expression.

"Um… are you… the witness?" the Daimler asked him, giving him a confused look.

"Huh?" was all Miles said in response.

Sighing, the Daimler rolled her eyes and tried again. "You… do you even speak English?" She was talking in a smart British accent herself, something Miles was finding irresistible to listen to, as it was just so silvery and perfectly modulated.

"English?" Miles asked, blinking and still staring dazedly at her.

"Ugh! This is hopeless!" the Daimler exclaimed with exasperation.

"Oh wait! Yes! I do speak English!" Miles shook himself back out of his trance and into reality.

"Quite well I see… you look… very familiar…" She eyed him now suspiciously, narrowing one eye and turning to the side a bit as she did so.

"Me? Familiar?" Miles asked, growing nervous. "Oh I get that a lot!" he declared, giving her an uneasy chuckle. "Haha! You would not believe how often I hear that! You know us Range Rovers… familiar faces and all!" He smiled at her unsteadily.

"Uh-huh…" she replied skeptically, raising her eyelids now. "And your name?"

"Miles Axle… uh… uh…" he stammered, realizing he'd almost blown his cover.

"Miles what now?" she asked.

"Uh, Miles… Miles… McCormick!" Miles finally said now.

"McCormick? I thought you said something that began with A a minute ago." She stated skeptically.

"Oh I uh… I got a little confused… you kind of caught me by surprise, you know?"

"I caught you by surprise? I thought you were expecting us." She gave him an incredulous look. "So where are you from, Mr. McCormick?"

"Please, call me Miles! S-South Africa! Yes that's it! I'm from South Africa!" Miles quickly responded, stammering.

"You don't sound South African." She pointed out.

"Well I… I'm from Britain you see but… I've lived in South Africa for the past few years! Their accent hasn't rubbed off on me yet, as I refuse to go entirely South African after all! But yep! That's me! Miles Ax… uh McCormick, at your service!" He offered her a suave smile here, driving up next to her, which causing her to back away a bit.

"Uh-huh… right. And you're vacationing here in Sumatra?" she continued with her questions.

"Yup! Decided to uh… you know, see the jungle and all that!"

"You know… you look… REALLY familiar… like I've seen you on TV or something before… say… you wouldn't happen to be…" She started, but Miles cut her off.

"May I just say, miss, that you are unbelievably gorgeous for a car! I have NEVER seen a Daimler up close before, but wow! You give new meaning to the term hot wheels!" He flashed her a wink now, still baring his teeth in a suave grin.

She seemed put off by this, rocking backwards and giving him a repulsed look. "Uhhh look, Mr. McCormick, or Miles if that's what you want to be called… I'm here to do a job, OK? So please keep your mind focused on the disaster, which is why I'm here."

"Oh! Yes… right… the disaster…" That wrenched him back to reality in a hurry, and caused his face to fall here. "I… you're right. Might I get your name though, miss?" he asked, still unsure who he was addressing.

"Oh! Apologies! I'm Melina… Melina Markham." She introduced herself here. "Lead investigator on this case."

"Melina you say? How very Greek of you!" Miles cracked here, smiling again.

"Eheh, yes, on my mother's side actually. Very perceptive, Mr. McCormick."

"Please… it's just Miles." Miles told her warmly again. "And I tend to notice things when it comes to beautiful cars." He gave her another wink.

"Uh… Very well, Miles. Let's start with what you saw… this way please." She drove past him towards a table that was being set up in the clearing now. "Now then, Mr. McCorm… uh, Miles." She corrected herself. "What did you witness? And remember, the slightest detail could be important. A normally healthy plane doesn't just fall out of the sky after all… and it's our job to get to the bottom of why it happened."

"Right!" Miles replied enthusiastically, rolling over to the side of the table that was opposite her. "Well, let's see… my eyes were initially closed, and I heard a sonic boom, I think it was!"

"You're positive it was a sonic boom? Not a bomb?" Melina pressed him.

"No, no, the aircraft was totally intact when I opened my eyes and saw it. It didn't look like a bomb had blasted it at all." Axlerod insisted. "It was falling straight down, like… nose pointed RIGHT at the ground, you know?" he asked her, and she nodded. "It was moving awfully fast too, which is probably why it broke the sound barrier. Uh… it then well…" he started to crack here, his voice wavering and getting weak.

Melina softened upon seeing how stressed he appeared to be. "Just… tell me what you saw, Miles. It could help me figure out WHY Captain Wing fell out of the sky." She told him softly.

"Yes… yes of course." He replied, equally softly. "Um… well the plane's tail broke off… ripped apart really, I assume from the G forces."

"Ripped off how? During the fall? How much broke off? Just the rudder, or the stabilizers too? Here…" she slid a photo of a 737 across to him. "The vertical part is the rudder, and the horizontal parts are the stabilizers. What did you see come off of him?"

"Um…" Miles studied the picture carefully, narrowing his eyes. "I think just the rudder… I think the stabilizers were still attached when he hit the water."

"And you SAW the rudder get ripped off, did you? It wasn't already off by the time you opened your eyes?" Melina asked.

"Yes… positive…" Axlerod confirmed.

"I see… that means he didn't have a problem with his tail BEFORE he started the fall… or at least… no visible problem." She muttered here.

"Did he send a distress call?" Axlerod asked her here.

"No… there was nothing. No contact. Last we heard was the first officer talking to the tower. That was it. Nothing to indicate what went wrong, I'm afraid." She paused to look past Miles to where her team was setting up. "I'm going to need those black boxes, guys! As quickly as you can! And Greg, would you mind coming over here?" she called over to a silver car who was hovering about her team. Driving over, he looked in Axlerod's direction. "Miles, this is Greg Feith, one of our senior investigators. Now… Miles, you said you saw the tail break off of Captain Wing. Did it fall into the river, or did it land somewhere else?"

"Oh! It uh… I think it went down on land actually! Yeah! Not too far from here!" Miles stated, brightening up. "Hey! I could take you out there! I'm an all terrain vehicle, after all!" He showed off his tires to her, spinning the right front one around in her face.

"Um… yes, that would actually be a good help if you could take Greg out there. I um… I'm not really suited for off roading, as you can see." She drove around the table, and Miles agreed fully with her there as her brilliant body came into view. "Plus, I need to coordinate the search efforts on the river at what we call base camp, as I'll be working with the local Indonesian team here. So if you don't mind…"

"Of course not!" Miles responded as if it were no big deal. "We'll be at that wreckage in no time! Don't you worry!" he told her reassuringly.

"I'm not." She smirked, but gave him a more casual smile afterward all the same. "See you back at base camp."

"I'll be back before you can say 'dashingly handsome Range Rover!'" Miles exclaimed, and drove off now, heading in the direction he'd last seen Captain Wing's tail falling.


	3. Chapter 3: Dark Revelations

As Axlerod led the way through the jungle, he found his mind frequently drifting back to Ms. Markham, and he pondered how exactly he could conceal his identity from her for an extended period of time. He also needed to stay focused on his revenge. If he got too distracted trying to impress Melina, he'd lose his perspective. Still… she was a car worth losing perspective over… but what was wrong with him? He didn't usually go all goo-goo eyed over a female car. Sure, he'd been plenty popular with the ladies as an oil billionaire, both before he'd turned philanthropist and after as well, but he'd never really considered settling down before. He was too busy plotting his scheme to discredit alternative energy and get his oil stocks up as the only "reliable" fuel on the market.

Greg didn't seem to be any more malleable than Melina though. He was regarding Axlerod with a sense of suspicion. "So… on vacation, are you?" Greg asked, looking over at the Range Rover.

"Yes, that's what I said…" Axlerod replied nervously.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to a certain former oil billionaire would you?" Greg asked, causing Miles to almost halt in his tracks, but he didn't, as he didn't want to tip off the NTSB investigator by giving a visual cue.

"You know… I think I know EXACTLY who you're talking about… and I can assure you…" Miles did stop here and rotated around to look at Greg. "He was a monster, OK? And you know, I get that a lot, that I look SOOO much like Sir Miles Axlerod. I've been hearing that for years, OK? And yes, I share the same first name as him, but I am NOT Sir Miles Axlerod. I hate being compared to that selfish, deceptive, jackass of a Range Rover! Yes, I'm a Range Rover! Glad you noticed! But I am NOT that conceited former oil tycoon, OK?" Miles sold it well, acting as if he was just as revolted with himself as everyone else was. While it certainly stung to insult himself, he needed to in order keep his cover.

"Well… at least you knew who I was talking about." Greg responded now with a smile. "I'd heard he'd escaped from prison recently, and could be anywhere at large."

"Yes well with luck, he was in the plane that crashed." Miles muttered, turning to continue on his way now.

"Wow… that's kind of a harsh thing to say, don't you think?" Greg asked, raising a brow.

"Not when it comes to that Range Rover!" Miles responded abruptly, playing the part well. "He gives my kind a bad name!"

"Yeah… I guess he does." Greg agreed, more subdued however.

Suddenly, Axlerod began slowing down, seeing a large, jagged piece of metal ahead of him, twisting its way out of the greenery like a misshapen construct. "Uh… Mr. Feith!" Miles called behind him. "Is this… what you were looking for?" he asked, getting the chills as he came upon a wrecked piece of metal that looked like the tail of a plane.

Pulling up next to him, Greg's face hardened. "Yes… that's it. Good job, Mr. McCormick. Looks like you were right on the money with what you witnessed. All right! Let's crate this up and get it back to base camp!" Greg shouted to the team of vehicles that had followed him out here. "And you're positive you saw it break off BEFORE the plane started falling… right?" he asked as military trucks moved up to begin packaging up what used to be Captain Wing's tail.

"100% So! Am I free to go?" Miles asked hopefully.

"Afraid not. We need to make sure your story checks out with what we recover… if we can recover anything of the plane." Greg muttered, looking over at Axlerod. "So just stick around… head back to camp. Get yourself a cup of oil and relax. We'll be back soon." He told the Range Rover.

"Oh… right… o-of course." Miles stammered, nodding as he turned now, and could see the military was still around, and still holding a perimeter, so he once again decided against making a run for it. Sighing, he began driving back to camp, defeated for now.

Miles had spent the rest of the day, or what was left of it, observing Melina work. He'd kept out of her way of course, but her smooth command of the situation and her efforts at recovering the black boxes fascinated him. She was doing her best to get to the bottom of this crash, but even Miles could tell it would take awhile. By the time the sun started sinking, he could tell she was worn out. She must've traveled a long way to get here as quick as she did, and the Range Rover sensed the trip and her job were both wearing her down faster than a tire at the World Grand Prix.

She was waiting by the river's edge, listening intently to the boats radio back as they brought up pieces of smashed wreckage. It was almost impossible to see down there, as it was very muddy, and the speed at which Wing had hit the river had broken him into thousands of pieces. Submersibles now had to recover what they could, and from what Miles could gather, they'd need to start piecing Captain Wing back together like a puzzle to gain a better understanding of what had happened.

Rolling over to the makeshift food station that had been set up in the clearing, Miles ordered two hot cups of oil. Driving over to the Daimler now, Miles slid one of the cups in front of her. "Um… I thought you could use a little bit of a break." He suggested here, giving her a sympathetic look.

Glancing down at the cup, her face melted into a tired smile, and she looked up at him here. "Thanks. There isn't really any 'breaks' for me on duty, at least until it's time for bed, but I'm just hoping we can get those black boxes." She sighed here.

"You know… I never even knew about… whatever it is you do. Investigating air disasters I suppose." Miles commented as he took a sip.

"Oh… well it exists. Someone has to find out what brings planes down after all." Melina replied.

"Yes but isn't it… sobering work? I mean you're investigating events that kill hundreds… right?" Miles asked, concerned here.

"Well yes… it is very sad… but what I do leads to direct changes in the airline industry to help make planes and flights safer. I have a direct impact on the world with what I do, Mr. McCormick, and that's what makes my job worth it at the end of the day… knowing that my findings lead to things that will save lives in the long run." Melina replied, offering him a smile as she took a drink.

"Huh… so you see the direct results of your work, do you?" Miles asked her here, looking beyond her and out to the setting sun, admiring the view and how the light seemed to bounce off her maroon and silver paint in just the right way.

"Well most of the time, yes." She nodded. "There's been very few unsolved cases the NTSB has failed to close. We're very good at what we do. It's kind of a noble job when you think about it… but what about you, Mr. McCormick? What do you do for a living?" Melina asked him curiously now.

"Me? Oh uh… well uh… I uh… used to be a big shot CEO…" Miles said, blinking his eyes a bit more rapidly than normal here.

"Oh you were?" Melina inquired, a slight smile crossing her lips. "CEO of what?"

"A large… company." Miles replied slowly. "And let's just say… it wasn't for me. I quit… sold my shares and cashed out. I've become more of a quiet recluse these days… living off my earnings and taking life more discreetly."

"You quit? What happened?" Melina asked, consternation crossing her features.

"Well… too much pressure, too many people expecting too much from me… it was very stressful." He lied. "Think of every day of your life being nothing but hangers-on, cars wanting you to do something for them or support this or that, having to navigate your way through incompetent subordinates who just don't care about your life's work or your company, and the pressure… every day. It's like… picture three cars all riding on your top, pressing you down into the earth, and you, just struggling to make ANY headway at all… but you can't because… because you're drowning. And you're cracking under the strain… it's so great that sometimes you just feel like…" Miles looked off to the side now, away from her. It wasn't all a lie… he was in fact relating parts of his childhood to her, in which he was incessantly bullied as a "lemon" and "jalopy." "You just feel like doing something really stupid with your life… like you know… Throwing yourself into those waters over there." He nodded in the direction of the Musi River as he sniffed, trying hard to forget their torment, and hardening his face up as best he could, but it was clear he was upset.

"Wow…" He heard Melina comment, as if she were very far away. "So… you were a former big shot with lots of money but couldn't handle the lifestyle… that sounds… I don't know. Not good." She said, grasping for words. "So is there a Mrs. McCormick?" the Daimler asked, trying to change the subject.

"Huh?" Axlerod asked, caught off guard by the question as he turned back to look at her.

"You know… a family? Someone you go home to every night? Judging by the fact we found you alone out here though… I'm guessing there isn't." Melina smirked.

"Oh! Right! No… uh… I never… I never really had time, you know? I was rich, young, still am I guess…" He chuckled here. "But never really had the time. I became focused on… other things." He said here, not elaborating on his plot to discredit alternative fuel and kill a racecar while doing so.

"No, no, I get it." Melina replied, shaking her head a bit. "Must've been nice, having more money than you knew what to do with." She tried here, attempting to get his mind off things.

"Oh… yeah it was… yeah. It's nice being rich." He joked, smiling at her.

"Hm-hm, yeah, I bet! Guess in the end it wasn't worth it, though." She stated, giving him a sad look.

"Oh… I wouldn't say that. But enough about that." He blinked, looking earnestly at her. "What about you? Is there a Mr. Markham, or is that your maiden…" But he was cut off as her radio buzzed.

"We've got em! We've got the black boxes!"

"Oh, yes!" Melina exclaimed, grinning as she backed up. "Miles, this is great! We've got the black boxes! I'm gonna head over to see if they're usable or not! I'll be back before you can say… oh wait, actually…" She braked here, turning around to face him once more, having forgotten about his question. "I managed to say 'dashingly handsome Range Rover' before you got back, so we can't use that." She joked. "And for the record…" Her eyes met his here. "I'd say you weren't totally inaccurate with that description of yourself."

Miles suddenly felt elation welling up in him as she delivered that compliment, but before he could respond, she was off, driving at a good clip to where the boats were heading back to the shore. Smiling to himself, Miles sighed as he watched her go, pleased she had chosen to deliver that before she'd left.

Axlerod spent the night in Palembang, where the NTSB had moved their operations after the recovery of the black boxes. Security was lighter here, and in the morning, Miles drove out to the building where the NTSB's mobile lab was located. He was considering leaving, but he wanted to say goodbye to Melina first… though deep inside of him, a part of him wanted to desperately stay. He wanted to see more of the beautiful 1951 Daimler that had driven into his life, but he knew it was simply too risky. He needed to get out of here and continue his revenge after all… too many distractions could be fatal.

Brightening up as he saw said Daimler outside the makeshift lab, Miles honked as he pulled up to her. "Good morning!" He exclaimed, flashing her a smile. "So uh… now that you have my testimony and all… I thought maybe I should be going…" he said, nodding off in another direction. "I really did enjoy… um… what did you find out last night?" he asked here quickly, changing his mind seemingly at the last moment.

"Oh… well we managed to salvage a part of Captain Wing's tail that helped us rule out a potential cause of the crash. See three other 737s had problems with contamination entering this part of their tail that caused something called a rudder hard over, which meant their rudders would snap violently to the right or left and cause them to roll and crash. We wanted to rule this out first, and Greg found absolutely no evidence of contamination inside Wing's tail. He had a tail as healthy as could be: practically brand new, in fact! So now, we're going to look at the cockpit voice recorder or CVR and the flight data recorder or FDR in the hopes they might provide us with a clue. We've determined they survived the impact, and can be used. We're going through the FDR's data now, but I was about to load up the CVR and give it a listen to. We can hear the conversation that took place in Wing's cockpit, and if anything went wrong, we should be able to hear it." She explained to him.

"Oh wow! That actually sounds pretty exciting!" Miles responded.

"But you said you were leaving…?" Melina asked, confused as she raised a brow.

"Ahh yes! I did say that! Actually… um… Melina… I mean… Ms. Markham… I'm really bad at expressing myself sometimes. Would you perhaps… um… let me treat you to dinner when you wrap this case up?" What are you doing? Miles had to start inwardly chiding himself here. It was too big a risk! He was on the run, and he had a revenge to plan, after all! What in Ford's name was he doing?

"Dinner?" she asked, smirking. "Mr. McCormick, you realize this investigation could take months, right?"

"Ah, right! Um… heh… of course." He agreed. Stupid! Of course it could take months! You need to be well clear of here by then!

"Well if you're suggesting a dinner date, I'll… think about it, how does that sound? And I'd prefer sooner rather than later." She gave him a wink, which perked him up.

"Oh! Well… let's bank on that, then!" He exclaimed.

"Say… would you want to hear the CVR?" Melina asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Really? I mean is that… allowed?" Miles asked skeptically.

"I don't see the harm, and you expressed such interest in my work… oh but you WILL have to keep it secret… this is an ongoing investigation, after all." She reminded him.

"Well… I suppose I could… but you do know I'm not planning on staying on Sumatra for several months… right?" he asked her here.

"Of course not… but I trust you. If you ever did open up about the information, you'd be severely prosecuted of course."

"No worries about that!" Miles responded nervously, and flashed his teeth to her in an uneasy smile. "Won't say a word!"

"Right… well then, let's go!" she exclaimed, backing up to turn around and head inside.

"Oh! I wanted to ask you earlier, you're an old model car but you seem more my age." Axlerod spoke as he drove beside her. "How exactly…?"

She chuckled as they drove. "Oh that… well my parents love vintage cars, so they thought it'd be nice if I was built in the classic vein, you see."

"Wouldn't they need money to do that, though?" Miles asked curiously, but was cut off by Greg Feith's shout of concern as they entered the lab.

"What is he doing here? Melina, you know the regulations!" he snapped.

"Greg, Greg! It's OK!" Melina assuaged him. "Listen… he wanted to see what we do on the job, and I don't think he's going to say anything about what he sees… he's more concerned about staying out of the spotlight, I think." She glanced over at Miles now for his acknowledgment, and the Range Rover flashed Greg a smile and waved slightly with his tire.

"Are you sure about this?" Greg asked, skeptical.

"Don't worry… just start the recording. What did you find with the FDR, by the way?"

"Oh yes… that…" Greg responded, face falling.

"What?" Melina asked him, confused.

"The FDR went dead about two minutes before the crash…" Greg trailed off here.

"What? That's not possible!" Melina replied, shock evident in her voice. "FDRs don't just switch off, Greg! I mean did it capture ANYTHING useful before it went dead?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'm… afraid not." Greg confessed. "It went dead while Wing was still flying level. Nothing indicated problems or mechanical malfunctions of any kind."

"Oh this is ludicrous!" Melina exclaimed with exasperation. "Of all the things to go wrong… ugh! Anyway, start up the CVR… hopefully it'll give us more than the FDR." She ordered, clearly not pleased with the developments.

Nodding, Greg used his tire to hit the play button, and soon, the voices of Captain Wing and First Officer Ward began drifting throughout the room like a ghostly cadence, their tones clear and understandable. "Do you want the stewardess to bring you some water?" Wing said as they drew close to the end of the tape.

"No." Ward could be heard saying.

"All right, well I'm gonna sign off for a moment… need to focus on clearing some clouds." Wing replied.

"Roger! Take your time!" was Ward's response, and then, without warning, the CVR too ended its recording abruptly about five seconds later.

"What? Is that it?" Melina asked incredulously.

"Looks like it… CVR went dead five seconds after 4:00."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! That is NOT possible for BOTH the CVR and FDR to fail! I mean they're on separate circuits entirely! They can't BOTH be knocked out!" she protested.

"Hmmm… well according to this, the CVR went out first, but the FDR kept recording until… 4:10… two minutes before the crash. It took less than a minute for Wing to dive out of the sky and crash, so I mean…" Greg began, but Melina cut him off.

"Hold on… the FDR died AFTER the CVR?"

"Ten minutes approximately." Greg nodded.

"What is going on here? First the CVR stops and then ten minutes later the FDR goes out too? No… something's fishy here. That doesn't just happen. Rewind the CVR… I want to hear the last few seconds." Melina ordered. Miles listened to the proceedings with an eerie sense of dread descending upon him. It was strange to hear voices belonging to vehicles that were now dead, but it was even more eerie to realize something was suspicious about this.

Greg rewound the tape, and they heard the final exchange between Ward and Wing. Right at the end, five seconds after Wing said he was signing off, the tape ended. "Do you find anything strange about what you heard, Greg?" Melina asked here.

"Uh… not really, why? It just sounds like the tape goes dead."

"Exactly! Rewind it again and listen to it once more… but this time, tell me what you DON'T hear."

"What I don't hear?" Greg asked, confused, then did as he was told, rewinding the tape to listen to the last minute once again. As the recording ended, Greg heard nothing. "Just… silence. Why?"

"Exactly! Silence!" Melina answered energetically. "What happens when an electrical surge knocks out power in the circuit breakers on a big jet, Greg?"

Suddenly, Greg's face lit up. "Yes! Of course! When a surge occurs, the CVR still functions about two seconds AFTER it's knocked out! It records the popping of its own circuit! A sound we SHOULD be able to hear on this!" Greg exclaimed with excitement.

"Right you are! But there's no pop! There's nothing at all in fact! Which means an electrical surge did NOT occur here…"

"But that could mean only one other thing…" Greg said with trepidation.

"Indeed!" Melina was smiling now. "It means SOMEONE purposely pulled the circuit out, deactivating the CVR! The circuit being pulled out makes no real sound as opposed to it popping from a surge!"

"But hold on… I'm a bit lost. Someone pulled the circuit out? But wouldn't that mean…" Miles spoke up for the first time now, and both investigators turned to look at him.

"Yes… it does, Mr. McCormick." Melina answered him solemnly. "It means someone pulled the circuit to purposely cut off the CVR from recording to cover up their crime. It means that someone on that flight… is a mass murderer!"


	4. Chapter 4: Ghosts of the Past

"OK! We're gonna need thorough background checks on everyone on that plane, starting with Captain Tsu Mai Wing and First Officer Duncan Ward! They're the ones who had the most direct access to the cockpit circuit board, so they're gonna be the initial focus of our investigation! We need financial histories, criminal background checks, social histories medical histories, everything you can scrounge up, all right?" Greg Feith was talking to the background investigators, members of law enforcement from Singapore who had flown down the moment they'd heard they were needed.

"It would be easiest for either Wing or Ward to have crashed the plane, given that the trajectory of the dive indicates it was initiated by an experienced flyer. Meanwhile, we'll continue to gather parts of Captain Wing and piece him back together, as well as test out some scenarios on a simulator to see if anything ELSE outside of direct input from the flight deck could've caused this crash." Greg informed them. "Let's get this done, people!"

Nodding, the investigators turned and began heading off to start their checks. Miles was with Greg and Melina, still not having been able to bring himself to go just yet. He was intrigued by this case now. Someone had deliberately crashed the plane, and most likely had committed suicide while doing so. Why anyone would do such a thing was beyond Axlerod, but he kind of wanted to see this thing through to the end now.

Turning to Greg, Miles spoke up. "So, you looked at the tail assembly, right?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah… the elevators were put into a down position… full down. Nothing was broken on the tail that didn't occur BEFORE the impact so… it's not looking good. The only way the elevators could've moved into that position is from input by someone on the flight deck. Either Captain Wing or First Officer Ward pushed the control stick forward to cause the dive. Also, Captain Wing was falling for about 35 seconds straight down. Such a dive IS recoverable if you're an experienced flyer… so why didn't Wing try and recover? I have to admit, it's looking more and more like Wing was either incapacitated… or else… crashed himself on purpose. We're gonna run some simulations today just to be sure though, to try and see if perhaps something mechanical could've gone wrong. If we can get a mechanical issue to match Wing's dive and trajectory, we might be able to explain this another way… I hope."

"How horrible!" Miles replied. "Why would ANYONE choose to commit suicide in such a violent fashion? I mean how selfish of you! Not only are you killing yourself, but you're killing 103 other cars with you! Why can't you just crash yourself when nobody's around or aboard? I mean how horrid!"

"It is pretty terrible to think about…" Greg agreed here. "But we won't make a ruling until we have all the evidence, though I have to admit some of it will be circumstantial, since someone pulled the circuits on both the CVR and the FDR. Vital data we could've used to solve this case is now lost… which is also something that worries me. Regular passengers don't usually know how to disable the CVR and FDR so… once again, it's looking more and more likely that Wing either popped his own circuits or Ward pulled them out himself. We just… we don't know yet."

"But there's ALSO the warning system, Greg." Melina chimed in here. "The CVR, fine. You disable that, no one can tell unless they're physically looking behind them at the circuit board in the cockpit. However, if the FDR's circuit is pulled, an alarm goes off in the cockpit. That alarm would've alerted either Wing or Ward, depending on who pulled the circuit."

"Right… so if it was Wing, he would've had to get Ward off the flight deck somehow. If it was Ward… that'd be more complicated. He'd have to incapacitate Wing somehow and THEN start the dive." Greg stated.

"Not necessarily." Melina replied. "Ward could push the control stick forward while Wing could fight back and try and get his elevators up, but that wouldn't be an easy thing to do."

"Yeah… like I said, too bad we don't have the data from the FDR. That'd tell us right away if Ward was pushing down and Wing was pushing up, since it monitors both the control stick AND Wing's personal inputs. Anyway, I'm gonna go run these simulations and test out different crash scenarios to see if any of them could explain a mechanical cause for this crash." Greg suggested.

"Right! Let me know what you find! Mr. McCormick, how would you like to come to the hanger where we're busy reassembling Captain Wing? I'm in charge of supervision there, but there really isn't anything for me to do unless the locals need some help, and I could use the company. What do you say?" Melina asked Axlerod.

"I'd love to!" Miles responded, brightening up at the prospect of being invited along to do something with the good-looking Daimler.

"Great! Greg, we'll see you later tonight!"

"Have fun!" Greg called in a somewhat subdued tone, almost as if he still couldn't believe his boss was simply inviting an outsider to get a look at their job.

As Miles drove into the hanger, his mouth and eyes went wide at the sight of the dead plane being pieced back together bit by bit, his white fuselage starting to come together in chunks. "Wow! Amazing!" Miles exclaimed, but then felt a very familiar sensation underneath him as Melina gave out a gasp.

"Uh… M-Miles!" she exclaimed. "You're leaking oil!"

"I… I know!" he responded quickly, shaking his front in frustration as he backed away from the black pool of oil spreading across the floor. "Dammit!' he uttered in exasperation.

"Do you need a restroom?" she asked, giving him a look that Miles interpreted as a cross between confusion and revulsion.

"No! It just… it happens!" he exclaimed, slamming his right front tire on the ground in anger. "Ugh! I HATE being a lemon! I hate this bucket of bolts old engine I have, and I HATE leaking oil! Arrrgggh!" He turned away from her now, embarrassed, and trying to fight back his roiling emotions.

"Um… can we get a clean-up over here?" she called to one of the Indonesian investigators, who noticed the oil and promptly rolled off to gather up a crew to clean that up. "Miles! Where are you going?" Melina asked, noticing he was starting to roll for the entrance.

"I… I'm really sorry you had to see that! I just get… I dunno… I'm a stupid lemon who leaks oil and breaks down every year like clockwork, OK?" he told her, not turning around.

"Miles… I didn't say that… you did…" Melina pointed out sympathetically.

"No, THEY did!" Miles shouted, turning back around violently and slamming his right tire down again.

"They… they who?" Melina asked, confused and surprised by how the Range Rover was acting.

"Uh…" Axlerod suddenly seemed to come back to himself now. "I… I… never mind!" he concluded.

Miles… what's wrong with you?" Melina asked with concern, driving towards him now. "Nobody called you a lemon… I was just… surprised by it, I guess. Cars don't usually leak oil on a regular basis, you know?"

"I know that!" Miles retorted, giving her a hurt look. "And I… I didn't want you to see that! Melina… I am SO sorry I did that, OK? I just… I have a bad engine and I… yes I leak oil sometimes, and yes, I usually require regular maintenance more than once a year. I'm a jalopy, OK? You can go ahead and say it! Call me a heap! A junker! A lemon! You can say it… I've heard it my whole life…" He muttered, turning sideways from her now at a defensive angle.

"No… why would I call you that?" Melina asked here, furrowing her brow. "Miles… it was an accident, OK? I can see that now. You didn't mean to do it and I… didn't mean to sound as if I was criticizing you, OK? I just… I wasn't expecting it, that's all. Judging from your reaction… I'm guessing you didn't grow up the most popular car in school… did you?" she inquired.

Sighing, Axlerod closed his eyes. "I… no… I wasn't."

"Well…" she rolled to stand beside him. "It's OK. It was an accident… and accidents happen. You can't control what type of car you were built as, Miles. Don't worry about it… and if it's any consolation… you've done a GREAT job with your exterior… OK?" He felt her nudge him now, and he opened his eyes, looking over at her.

"Really?" he asked, starting to calm down.

"Well yeah… that black roof, your green metal flake paint… you're not bad. Don't worry about the spill… we'll get that cleaned up. You didn't leak on the plane, after all. That would've been something!" she joked, offering him a chuckle here.

"Oh… yeah…" He replied glumly, thinking about that now.

"Hey! Everyone leaks oil sometimes, Miles. Even beautiful cars like me." She drove ahead of him here, heading for the wreckage.

"No!" He replied, not believing her.

"It's true! You just won't see me do it in front of you." She turned to give him a smile that simply melted his innards, and he felt relaxation and soothing feelings washing over him. She was the first car who saw him leak oil and hadn't judged him unfairly from the start. "Now come on." She nodded at him. "I still want someone to talk to while we piece poor old Captain Wing back together, and I'm not going to let a bit of leaking oil stop that, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" he replied like a soldier, which elicited a chuckle from her again. Miles… she was calling him Miles… not Mr. McCormick… but Miles… it was… nice. It was something he wasn't used to, but it left him wanting more… and he hurried to catch up with her.

* * *

Deep within CHROME's underground facility, Finn McMissile roared through the halls, looking for Holley Shiftwell. He knew she was here from a list of active agents at headquarters that he'd pulled, but wasn't sure exactly where. He figured he'd try her office first, and pulled into it with a screech of his tires. "Ms. Shiftwell!" he exclaimed happily upon seeing her at her desk, glowing computer screen in front of her eyes.

"Oh! Finn! What is it?" the purple Jaguar asked, closing her screen.

"Miles Axlerod has escaped from prison, and they want us to track him down!" Finn informed her.

"Us? But Finn… isn't that a job for you know… the National Crime Agency?" Holley asked.

"Normally, yes, but this is criminal mastermind Miles Axlerod we're talking about! They're asking for our help directly, Ms. Shiftwell! Also, I've got an idea we can employ in the field! I think I've got just the car who can help us catch this wily Rover!"

"Do you mean Mater?" Holley asked, perhaps a bit too hopefully than she intended to come across as.

"No, actually I was thinking of Professor Zundapp! If we could cut a deal with him in return for his help, then maybe that'll give us an edge in tracking Axlerod down!" Finn suggested.

"Zundapp? Are you sure?" Holley asked quizzically.

"Well if we offer to lessen his sentence and get some leniency, then maybe he'll help us! It's worth a shot, right?" Finn asked.

"Well… sure, I suppose so." Holley replied thoughtfully.

"Great! I'm heading down to his prison to make him the deal. Meanwhile, get what gear you want and roll on over to Siddeley! We'll be flying out tonight!" Finn ordered.

"Where are we starting our search?" Holley asked.

"We'll see when Zundapp attempts to make contact! If of course… he agrees to our deal." Finn added.

"Right! I'll see you down there!" Holley replied, giving him a nod.

* * *

Axlerod had spent his day in the hanger chatting with Melina, and getting to know her a bit better, but one question still lingered in his mind. "Say uh… Ms. Markham…"

"Please… just Melina for now." Melina responded.

"Right! Um… so why did you want to become an air crash investigator? I mean… doesn't it make you scared of flying?" he asked.

"Hm-hm, well Miles, to be honest, flying is far safer than us driving the road every day. Did you know that in the United States alone, 60,000 cars die in wrecks a year, but only about 2,000 cars are killed in air crashes globally a year?"

"Really? No… I didn't know that… that's… that's pretty interesting, actually! But what was your decision to investigate these things?" Axlerod asked again.

"Let me tell you a story, Miles." Melina began. "There was once a little car, and she was VERY into art. She was good, too: some might even call her a prodigy. She was able to copy the paintings of Claude Monet just by looking at them. However, there was one place she wanted to see more than any other place in the world… and so, her mother decided to take her there on a trip, to see the famous bridge in Giverny that Monet had painted, so that she could try it herself. But not just Giverny… she and her mother were going to park under the Eiffel Tower and take a photo of the magnificent grid of steel and iron looking up. They were going to see the sights of Paris for four days. And so… the mother and her daughter flew from their small town in Texas to New York, and boarded a flight bound for Paris. They were very excited… it was the girl's first time out of the country… but as their big, powerful 747 climbed into the night sky off Long Island, an explosion suddenly ripped it apart, destroying the plane in a horrific flash and killing all 230 passengers and crew aboard." Melina paused here, looking off into the distance, as if she were looking at that plane explode in front of her.

"What… what happened then?" Miles asked numbly.

"The sea burned… and no one came up. The sea burned… and the girl and her mother's remains were found a few days later…" Melina sniffed here, and Miles could see tears forming in her eyes. "The worst part was… there was so much controversy. What had brought the plane down? There were rumors of it being accidentally shot down by the US Navy in a missile strike, or a terrorist bomb blowing it out of the sky… finally, the NTSB determined it was a small spark… a single bad wire in the center fuel tank had sparked, causing the detonation of the fuel vapors, and killing 229 cars and one plane… but the worst part, was never getting full closure on it. Controversy remains, even to this day… and the worst part is not having a solid answer."

"You're talking about… TWA Flight 800, yes? I remember that when I was younger, too. I grew up with it… I remember it being all over the news… yeah, there was a lot of controversy regarding that one. So… go on." He urged her quietly here.

"Well that little girl was my older sister… and her mother…" Melina sniffed here again, and Miles could see she was pretty upset.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" Miles mustered, moving in to nudge her now without even thinking about it. He wanted to do something for her… support her, since he could only imagine how he'd feel in this situation.

"Why couldn't we just get an answer?" Melina asked now. "That controversy… that wondering what it was that had killed my mother and sister and left my father heartbroken… that's why I became an air crash investigator… so that no family will ever have to go through what I did. I promise myself every time I investigate one of these crashes that I'm going to do it right… that I'm going to get answers for them… so that… maybe… maybe they'll have peace in their lives…" She sniffed again, closing her eyes as tears began to stain her face. "Why do cars tell lies, Miles?"

Miles hesitated here, that last question catching him off guard, and hitting him close to home. "Um… well… I guess because… they're… they think the truth won't get them what they want?" he tried softly as he nuzzled against her.

"There were a lot of lies told in the aftermath of that crash… but I JUST wanted the truth… I wanted to know why a plane had exploded, killing my family… MY family… Miles." She opened her eyes here, and shook her head a bit. "Aren't I entitled to at least that?"

Miles said nothing at first, a million things running through his head at once. "Which story did you believe?" he managed to get out.

"The official one, after awhile. It made the most sense, and was backed up by the most evidence. But why did people like Salinger have to lie about the missile? All it did was confuse us, and cause us more pain. I can't stand cars like him… cars who are willing to cover up the truth for what? To fuel anger and hatred and pain? I just don't understand it, Miles. Well… that's your answer."

"Wow… I… I shouldn't have asked." Miles replied, shaking his head here.

"No… it's fine. It was a long time ago." Melina replied sadly.

"How did you… you're from Texas? Your accent…" Miles pointed out.

"Yes… my father is British… he met my mum in the States though, and settled down there. After she died… it was too much for him, to stay in the same places she had been… he said he kept seeing her everywhere, so he moved back to Britain with me… and I lost my accent growing up, and there you go. Transplanted Texan grows up in the UK thanks to a family tragedy."

"Melina I'm… I'm so… sorry for that… that's just… well it's terrible. And I… I understand why you want to give other families closure. It's… it's nice of you." Axlerod told her, offering a smile here. "I guess if it were me… yeah… I'd want to know too."

"Well… thanks for listening… I think…" But she was interrupted as her phone rang, and she sighed, answering it. "Yes, Greg?" she asked.

"So I tried every scenario I could think of that would cause a catastrophic dive, and NOTHING replicates the dive Flight 185 took. The ONLY scenario that matches perfectly in the simulator is if someone DELIBERATELY pushed Captain Wing straight down, and did not make any attempt to recover from the dive. The dive WAS recoverable, but whoever was in control made no effort to save the plane. We're looking at a suicide/murder here." Greg told her.

"I see… thank you, Mr. Feith." Melina said softly. "Have the background checks turned up anything yet?"

"They're making some progress. According to First Officer Ward's father, he was living the dream, had no depression issues, and was doing what he loved. No financial issues he was aware of, either." Greg responded.

"And Wing?"

"Well he's more complex. Turns out he was demoted recently for reckless flying… he wasn't the safe plane everyone seemed to think he was. He was demoted from flight instructor recently, to just regular captain. Turns out he had a history of flying at excessive speeds to try and save on time, and a month before this, he'd made a very violent landing that had made some of his passengers sick. He'd received multiple warnings, but this latest stunt of his had resulted in a demotion."

"Still… that's not exactly a smoking gun for wanting to commit suicide. Anything else?" Melina asked.

"Not yet, but we're running his financials now, and looking into his past history further. Some red flags, but so far as you said, not enough to want to make a father of three commit suicide and kill all his passengers. Ward seems clean, though." Greg commented.

"All right… we'll keep digging. Good work, Mr. Feith." Melina said, and hung up. "Well we're in the process of ruling out First Officer Duncan Ward as our car… we're still looking into Wing, though. Turns out he was a bit of a reckless flyer, and earned himself a demotion recently, but it's not enough. We need strong proof and a motive. Since we don't have any recordings from the cockpit, we're going to have to base this on really strong circumstantial evidence." Melina informed Miles.

"Well if anyone can find it, you can." Miles told her confidently. "I believe you can. Listening to your story… you're so determined to do this job right."

Giving him a smile in return, she replied with a "Thanks, Miles. Anyway, these pieces just don't look like something catastrophic happened to Captain Wing in-flight. While I'm not going to rule out failure of some kind, I think it's looking almost irrefutably like this was a deliberate act. Anyway, I think I'm done for the day. Miles, would you care to join me for a drink?" Melina asked.

"I'd love to!" the Range Rover eagerly responded. "Count me in! This dashingly handsome Range Rover with the great exterior is going to cheer you up as best he can!"


	5. Chapter 5: The Things Not Said

**Author's Note:** So last night, CNN aired a Special Report on TWA Flight 800 that was very well done and poignant. This crash always personally resonated with me as a kid growing up. There was so much controversy over it at the time, and it was such a big part of the news as I grew up. Anyway, I was so happy to see this special last night, and I'm going to dedicate this chapter to the victims of the crash and the families who lost loved ones in this tragedy. The captain of Flight 800, Steven Snyder, grew up on a farm VERY close to the farm my dad grew up on, and I thought that was a cool but sad coincidence. They didn't know each other, as Snyder was 12 years older than my dad, but I thought it nice all the same. It was very uplifting last night to hear one man's story about his gradual healing process after losing his entire family on Flight 800, and you can guess which character in this story I partly based his inspirational story off of. Tomorrow will be the 18th anniversary of the crash, and I'm glad I could do something nice to honor the victims and their families today, so I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

Also, I think the NTSB did a great job concluding what it was that brought down this flight, and I also would like to dedicate this chapter to the hard working members of the National Transportation Safety Board, who every day make our skies safer with their work. Thank you so much!

Finally, thank you my reviewers! ^^ I enjoy reading your reviews and am glad I'm writing a story you so far enjoy. This chapter was pretty emotional for me to write at points, so I hope you like it!

**Back to the Story**

"Good evening… the images you see before you are the remains of TWA Flight 800, which has crashed tonight off Moriches Inlet 12 minutes after takeoff from New York. Unfortunately… initial reports are bleak. The sights you are seeing are burning wreckage, and the images are just awful to behold…" Miles paused the video, a sick feeling rising within him as he watched old news reports on the internet, the glow from the monitor illuminating him and bathing him in a soft glow. He hadn't slept well, waking up quite early, and had decided to do some reading and watching of TWA Flight 800's tragic demise. There were so many rumors that it had been shot down by a missile, but the more he read, the more the official story made sense to him. A spark in the center fuel tank had set off a catastrophic explosion that had brought down the unfortunate plane, and had led to all those deaths. There was just no evidence of external damage whatsoever.

Sniffing a bit, Miles gazed intently at the paused image of the burning ocean… it was exactly like Melina had described it, but even darker than he'd pictured, since it was at night and the sea looked black. He could see how frustrating this would be for the families of the victims though… all those conspiracy theorists out there still claiming a missile had brought down the plane. How painful… to hear others confusing the story and muddling to ensure lingering doubt still remained.

"Miles?" came the soft voice of Melina from behind him. Gasping, Miles backed up, accidentally revealing the screen as he turned to look at her. He was in the hotel lobby in Palembang, the same hotel she was staying at. How he was paying for this was an interesting conundrum that he'd solved with his secret account. While still a billionaire, Axlerod had set up a secret off shore account that not even the government had been aware of. It had accumulated interest to the point of having about five billion left by the time he'd been imprisoned. He was able to access it without any problems, and once again found himself wealthy beyond most cars' wildest dreams. He praised the day he'd thought to establish this account, as it was really saving him the trouble of being penniless after breaking out of prison.

"What are you… is that… TWA Flight 800?" Melina asked curiously, noticing the screen behind him.

"Wh-what are you doing up?" Miles asked quickly, not answering her question.

"Well it's close to the time I usually get up for work…" she explained.

"It is?" Miles asked, confused as he glanced at a clock in the lobby. "Wow! I hadn't realized I'd been down here this long!" he exclaimed.

"What are you doing?" she asked again.

"Oh I… I couldn't sleep. So I… wanted to research your family's flight… you know… curiosity. It happened a long time ago, and I needed a refresher. I'm uh… I'm sorry again. This was just… it's all coming back to me now. And I'm sorry. I can't imagine what your father and well… you went through in the aftermath."

Melina paused here, then gave him a knowing look. "Well… it wasn't easy at first… I remember my father describing it as many many dark and lonely nights… I remember him crying a lot at night… because my mother wasn't there anymore next to him… she was just… gone. Never coming home again. My sister was gone… her room was empty too… I guess I cried a lot myself…" she confessed softly here, no longer looking at him but at the wall of the hotel.

"I… I'm so sorry…" Miles whispered, face falling as he felt tears welling up.

"I was afraid he'd give up… well I mean I didn't really understand the concept of suicide at that age, but I knew… there was something wrong with him back then… he just wouldn't get up in the mornings sometimes… he'd stay in his room… but in the end he'd always come out… he'd always give me a smile and look at me as if he were seeing me for the first time… and it made me happy…"

"Did… he… ever… recover?" Miles asked haltingly, afraid of the answer.

A smile played across Melina's features now. "Yes… he did. It took a long time but… he met another car, and she helped him heal. He's very happy now, and calls himself the luckiest car alive. He says he's got a family waiting for him when he dies, but also has a family who's taking care of him now and making his life feel whole again." She turned to face him, her countenance almost glowing, or maybe that was the computer screen.

"Wow… that's… I'm actually really happy to hear that!" Miles blinked some tears away, sniffing heavily as he too smiled at seeing her happy. "To recover from something like that has got to be… really difficult."

"Yes… my father's the strongest car I know… and I really admire him for it. I'm… I'm sorry…" she said, turning away as he heard a sob escape her mouth.

"Hey!" He said, rolling over to her now. "Hey… I didn't mean to reopen this old wound."

"No, no, it's not your fault… it's OK, Miles. I'm… I'm glad you know this about me. Those were dark days but… seeing my father on the times I can see him… and how he's managed to heal… it's just… I can't think of a happier story." She told him, her voice wavering as she turned back to look at him again, still crying a tad.

"Yeah…" He smiled, noting she was pleased he knew this about her. Was that… because she was starting to like him? "I uh… don't have anything tragic like that myself in my family but… well my problems are nothing compared to yours, let's just say that." He confessed, shaking his head.

"It's OK… I'd love to hear about them sometime. Miles I… I probably shouldn't be saying this but… thanks for your concern about my… history. I mean… it's kinda sweet. I wake up and find you researching it… not many cars I know would care enough to do something like that. And talking about it always helps me… it doesn't hurt me anymore. Of that you can rest assured… I just… haven't spoken about it recently because… I guess I haven't found the car who wanted to talk about it with me. But you're kinda sweet that way."

Listening to her speak was like lying on a beach on a warm, sunny day. It felt so good to him to just listen to her talk… and for the first time in his life that he could remember… he actually felt… good about being "sweet." "Hey… look I…" he trailed off, finding himself unable to get it out.

"Yes?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.

"I…" Care about you… a lot. I think even… that I'm falling in love with you, Melina. I've never felt this way before so I just don't know if what I'm feeling is true or not but… would you help me find out? I've never cared about a car this deeply before… you're… changing me… and I want to know if it's real or not…

Unfortunately, none of these words actually left his mouth. He just stood there, staring at her in uncertainty.

"Are you OK?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes!" he replied quickly, snapping his eyes closed. "Yes… but I'm having trouble finding the words right now." That was a lie… the words were all there, he was just too nervous to say them. He was terrified… and not just because he might be falling for her. He was terrified she was falling for him… and what that meant for him. He was a convict… an escaped criminal… if she found that out… it was all over. He could NOT take this plunge right now, much as it broke his heart to admit.

"You can tell me anything, Miles. I'll listen. It's the least I can do for you listening to me after all." He heard her say.

No Melina… I can't. I just… can't…

"Miles…? Are you… crying?" she asked, and he knew he was, and he knew why too. He wanted to open up to her… to tell her how he was feeling… to tell her everything about himself… who he was… what he'd done… he wanted to trust her… but to do so would only make things worse… he knew that deep within himself… and it hurt. Every fiber of his being, down to the last flake of metal paint on him ached with passion to tell her how he was feeling… but his mind was pulling him back… putting a leash on him that felt so restrictive… and asphyxiating.

"I am…" he confessed to her in a quavering voice.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"Melina… you have a happy life… and… and a Ranger Rover like me…" he blinked, trying to clear his tears. "There's something I just can't say right now… due to our circumstances. I… I need to go back to my room for a bit. I'll see you at the lab?" he asked hopefully.

He was torn apart though to see her face fall, almost as if she knew what he wanted to say but was disappointed that he hadn't. "OK…" she said slowly. "But I want you to know… I'll listen." She said softly, driving over to him and nuzzling him a bit, which only caused him more pain as his innards twisted in confusion.

"Thank you… see you there." He said quickly, driving away from her now towards the elevator. He couldn't remember riding it up, or driving down the hall to his room, but the next time he became conscious again, he was screaming. He was screaming as loud as he could, burying his face in the couch. The screams turned to sobs, which rocked his body, as his mind turned in a thousand directions at once. He was so confused… he'd NEVER felt this way before! Why was he so upset? Why did it feel like he was slowly dying? For the first time in his life… Miles Axlerod felt truly alone… alone in a dark, empty room. He wanted to be with someone… anyone… so that he didn't have to feel alone anymore. But there was no one but the silent walls to keep him company, and they weren't saying anything.

"Am I… am I really falling in love?" he asked, looking at the walls with tears rolling down his hood. "What's happening to me? I've never cared so much about another car before in my life… what's happening?" he asked again, looking lost, scared, and isolated as the darkness closed in on him.

* * *

Pulling up to the lab sometime later, Miles Axlerod seemed to be back to his old self. He rolled on in, and gave a friendly honk to the duo of Greg and Melina and offered them his best smile. "Top of the morning, to ya!" he declared.

Melina seemed to brighten upon seeing him. "Miles… you're looking… happier. Are you OK now?" she asked sincerely.

"Yes… I am." He replied, giving her a nod. "How are things going?"

"Well we're making mssive progress. Greg." Melina motioned to Greg to speak.

"Right… well a financial check found some disturbing things about Captain Wing. Turns out he'd lost over a million dollars on the Singapore Stock Market when the stocks started plummeting two weeks ago. He made some risky investments, and lost close to 1.2 million. His wife said she had no idea… and none of his friends knew about it either. Also, we found out the date of the crash was the date three of his friends had died in a training accident… it apparently left him deeply upset, because he'd often mention it to his family how he blamed himself for not being there that day due to mechanical issues. He and First Officer Ward didn't get along too well either, it seemed. Coworkers said they heard Wing yelling at Ward that that reckless landing he'd made was fine, but Ward was saying he was flying too dangerously."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! 1.2 million?" Miles asked, incredulous. "That's hardly chump change!"

"Not only that… he didn't just LOSE the money… he was in DEBT 1.2 million." Greg stated now. "Also, his monthly income was less than his family's current monthly expenditures, and he was suspended from stock market trading until he paid off that debt, since he had the reputation of a somewhat reckless speculator."

"That's… that's quite a lot to be in debt…" Miles confessed here, knowing all about the plights money could get one into from his friends who had been less financially fortunate than he.

"No kidding… and he WASN'T making enough at his current salary to keep up with his family, so…"

"You think he chose the suicidal option?" Miles concluded.

"Seems that way." Greg said grimly. "To make matters worse, his company, SumatraAir, said they had to discipline him once for improper manipulation of the CVR circuit breaker… sound familiar?"

"Eerily so." Miles stated.

"While we can't prove it, it seems we have pretty strong circumstantial evidence to say that Captain Wing killed not only himself, but everyone on his flight as well."

"We're theorizing that after he told Ward he was signing off, he popped the circuit on his own board for the CVR, stopping the recording. After that, we think he made up some excuse to get Ward out of the cockpit… I dunno, like making up a story that a stewardess needed his help or something." Melina began to explain. "He NEEDED Ward out of the cockpit though, because if he popped the circuit for his FDR, the alarm would've gone off, alerting Ward. So after Ward left the cockpit..."

* * *

"Hey Ward!" Wing said, alerting his first officer.

"Sir?" Ward asked, looking up.

"One of the stewardesses buzzed me. She said there's a problem in the galley, and needs help. Would you mind?" Wing asked.

"She did? Uh… OK… sure." Ward was confused… he hadn't heard a buzz… but maybe he had zoned out as he finished his lunch. Pushing himself out of his spot on the flight deck, he turned and rolled out of the door, shutting it behind him as per procedure. Wing then proceeded to snap the lock into place.

Ward looked around, but could see no sign of the stewardess. His confusion only mounted as the galley proved to be empty.

The black knob of the FDR's circuit then popped, setting off an alarm on the flight deck… an alarm that no one but Wing could hear. Wing then began to dive downward…

Ward, sensing the sudden movement, turned rapidly around and headed for the cockpit, only to find the door wouldn't budge. "Wing!" He shouted. "Wing! Is something wrong?" But the rapid descent had begun. Ward tried to break down the door, but the G forces soon threw him violently back, and now no one could save the flight. Accelerating to beyond the speed of sound, Wing plummeted lower and lower to the Earth… the Musi River looming large in front of him… in seconds, it would all be over…

* * *

"And that's what we think happened." Melina concluded. "We have no direct evidence… but our circumstantial case is strong enough I think we can say that Captain Wing is the culprit. He deliberately killed himself and all aboard due to financial difficulties, his career running into problems, and quite possibly his depression over the deaths of his friends. We've ruled out EVERY other possible scenario that could've caused that dive… and we've also determined the dive was recoverable, but that no one made the effort to do so. When you've ruled out everything except intentional crash, what are you left with?"

"Yes… yes I think you've done it!" Miles exclaimed, nodding. "You've convinced me, at least!"

"Right! Well then we'll present our findings to the Indonesian team and publish our report! Unfortunately, it looks like there's going to be little that'll be improved safety wise over this crash since it was a deliberate act, but still, I'm glad we've managed to get to the bottom of this." Melina said.

"Well the truth will come out at least, and that's important." Miles stated. "I mean you ruled out everything else, so what's left is the scenario you outlined. I mean… it's just sad that so many lives were lost over such a selfish decision." The Range Rover concluded here, looking down.

"Yes well… the families at least will get closure. Greg, would you mind writing up the report while I talk to the press?" Melina asked.

"Not a problem." Greg answered.

"Great! Miles, would you care to watch my press statement?" Melina asked, causing alarm bells to go off in the Rover's mind.

"Uh… actually I just remembered that I need to make a very important call! So I'll catch up with you in a bit, how does that sound?" he asked now, wanting to avoid the press at all costs.

"Oh… well that's not a problem, then. I'll see you maybe a bit later?" she asked.

"Count on it!" Miles told her with conviction. "Till then!" Backing up and executing a turn, he drove quickly out of the lab, wanting to make himself scarce for the next while.

* * *

Later in the day, after Miles figured the press release was sufficiently over, the Range Rover drove back to hook up with his new comrades from the NTSB, though didn't have far to drive as it turned out. Cars were lining Palembang's streets, eager to see something up ahead. Threading his way through the crowd, Miles searched for Melina, but wasn't able to initially spot her amidst the clustered cars.

Seeing a podium set up close to the makeshift field laboratory, Axlerod curiously drove closer, wondering what this was all about.

Behind the podium, the head of Indonesia's NTSC or National Transportation Safety Committee was reading over his subordinates' reports on the findings of the NTSB. "So… they're convinced Captain Wing committed suicide… are they? And they're positive about this ruling?" he asked with concern.

"Yes sir… we ruled out everything else that it could be." One of the investigators responded.

Chewing his lower lip, the director seemed to be contemplating this deeply. "Damn… if cars get wind of this, they'll be afraid to fly SumatraAir… our only airline. That'll mean loss of profits… loss of profits means a downturn in the airline industry, affecting the rest of the country…"

"Sir?" the investigator asked, confused by this. "But it's what happened."

"I know… it's what happened… but how much is it gonna cost us? All right… thank you for a job well done. I'll deliver the final report myself." Turning, he drove up to the podium now, placing the report before him and gazing at it tentatively before he glanced up at the gathered crowd and the reporters in the front row.

Miles finally saw Melina in the crowd, and drove his way over to her as best he could. "Hello! Sorry I'm late!" He said apologetically as he slotted in beside her.

"Oh! Miles! There are you! How was your urgent call?" she asked.

"Oh uh, fine! Fine! Got it all taken care of!"

"Good, I'm glad. Well then… the Indonesian NTSC is about to release their own findings, and I expect they'll be the same as our own." Melina told him.

"So the press conference went well?" Miles asked.

"Yes indeed, it did. Greg finished writing up our report, and it's being issued now. So let's hear what the Indonesians have to say."

The director glanced down once more at the report lying before him, with all its relevant findings and statistics. Clearing his throat, he began. "Um… as many of you know, SumatraAir Flight 185 crashed several days ago in the Musi River… with no survivors. Despite all our work… the fact remains that the CVR stopped several minutes before the crash. Due to the fact that vital data was lost in this fashion, the NTSC deems that there is no provable cause of this crash!"

"WHAT?" Melina cried angrily, driving forward as the press started to clamor as well.

"THAT'S A BLOODY LIE!" Miles shouted as well, driving forward with her as a few cameras turned in their direction, though Axlerod didn't even notice.

"Please! Please! I will answer your questions one at a time, but please… I know you might have heard a different story earlier regarding this tragedy, but I can assure you we have found no definitive evidence for the cause of this crash!" the director continued.

"Ugh I can't believe this! They're lying!" Melina exclaimed, in absolute shock and disgust.

"They're trying to cover it up!" Miles agreed.

"I don't understand! Their investigators said they agreed with us! They said there was nothing else that could've caused this crash! What's he doing?"

"I'm not sure but it's a bloody disgrace! Ugh! You worked so hard for this and you did your job and I don't get it! What's his problem? I oughta go up there and make him recant that!"

"Miles, please! That's… that's not necessary. The Indonesians are entitled to their own opinions as well… even if their opinion is one that's completely obscuring the truth…" Melina said with defeat, turning around and beginning to drive off.

"Huh? Wait! Where are you going?" Axlerod inquired, turning to follow after her. "Hey! Melina! Wait!" Pulling up beside her, he could feel the tension in the air surrounding her. She looked crushed at the report, and totally disgusted with the result. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Back home I guess… my job is done, as you can see." The Daimler told him unhappily.

"Home? But… look I'm sorry that happened OK? You look… really downtrodden. Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?"

"I don't know, Miles… I'm just… repulsed right now with how much cars lie in this world. It's TWA all over again!"

That made him cringe, but he quickly drove in front of her and blocked her. "Melina, stop!" He ordered. "I… I hate seeing you like this! Please! I know! Let me buy you that dinner I promised you! I'll take your mind off this! Please let me do this!" he pleaded with her.

"Miles..." Melina trailed off here, not expecting this insistent side of him. "Oh! You're… leaking again." She replied, trying to suppress a smile.

"Huh? Oh great!" the Rover responded in exasperation as a familiar black puddle began pooling under his wheels.

"Heheh… sure you don't want to get that looked at first before dinner?" she lightly teased him.

"I… I ugh! WHY?" he asked in frustration, backing away from the spreading slick and raising his eyes skywards.

"It's OK… you're kind of cute when you're frustrated." She told him honestly, still smiling. "Well… since you were SO insistent with me..." she glanced downward at the oil slick. "All right. You can buy me dinner." She agreed, and this at least seemed to relax him a bit.

"Oh, really?" Miles asked in relief. "I… I can?" He seemed to brighten at this, momentarily forgetting about his little accident.

"Of course! You know I was just upset… but let's do it! I'd love to have a nice dinner with you tonight."

"Great! Then uh… I'll collect you around 7:00, how does that sound?"

"Sounds great! Looking forward to it!" Melina responded enthusiastically. "And uh… maybe see a doctor before you pick me up, eh?"

"Oh! Right." He said, rolling his eyes. "Yeah… maybe I will duck into a shop before then. Anyway! See you tonight!" He drove backwards from her before giving her a wink, spinning around, and driving off to get himself checked.


	6. Chapter 6: Dining and Dancing

**Author's Note:** Lyrics copyrighted to Australian pop duo Savage Garden.

**Back to the Story**

The place Axlerod had picked out was fancy, an upscale restaurant on the Musi River in Palembang. It had a great view of the Ambera Bridge, which was all lit up like a carnival float at night. "Wow!" Melina exclaimed as they drove over to their table. "Have you dined here before, Miles?"

"No, believe it or not. I simply did some research, and heard this place was recommended. It's not Jakarta but… still… we can do this, right?"

"Of course! So… how much money do you actually have, Mr. I'm so rich I don't really work anymore." She chuckled as he took one side of the table and she the other.

"Heheh… well it's… how about you guess." He suggested, eyes twinkling.

"Hmmm… well you don't seem to be afraid of spending money so… over 100 million?" she asked.

"Higher." Miles responded with a smile.

"Huh… 250 million?"

"Higher." His smile grew.

"Not more than 500 million… right?"

"Hiiiigher." Miles sang out to her.

"Oh come on! No! You're not… you're not a billionaire, are you?" she asked in disbelief, but also with some amusement too.

He said nothing here, and just gave her a knowing look.

"No! You are?" she gasped, but almost in a happy way, as if it wasn't that big of a deal to her, or she'd just discovered something amazing.

"I don't want my money alone to impress you… but I admit, it is impressive, I won't lie." He confessed to her now.

"How many billions?" she asked her curiously.

"I used to own a lot more than I do now… as said, I took only what I wanted."

"So dining here is chump change for you." Melina stated slyly.

"Yes… you could say so. Ah!" They were interrupted by the waiter, who took their drink orders, before they resumed the conversation.

"Wow! I've never personally dined with a billionaire before." She stated, blinking.

"Well it's… hopefully not the ONLY thing that impresses you about me." He stated.

"Oh don't worry… it's not. You must've traveled a lot though… what's your favorite place in the world?" she asked, still curious.

"Uh… for what? A business meeting? A dinner date with a gorgeous Daimler? What?" Miles pressed.

"The latter." She chuckled.

"Hong Kong. It's SOOOO beautiful at night… and just… such a nice place to stay no matter the time of year. There's this ancient looking Chinese bridge down in Repulse Bay, and the building with the 'hole'… it's such a unique place! Fantastic dining… you'd really love it there, if you haven't been." He told her.

"I never have… I've always wanted to see Taipei though." She confessed.

"Oh Taipei's nice too! We should go sometime!"

"We, eh?" Melina asked, giving him a quizzical look.

"Oh heheh… yes I suppose that's…"

"It's nice of you to say… but Miles, can I tell you something?" Melina asked here as their drinks arrived.

"Sure! But are you ready to order?" he asked, and she nodded, so they placed their orders and were once again left alone.

"Well Miles… I've been studying you these past few days… you've been so kind to me regarding my past, and you haven't made me regret opening up to you yet about it, nor do I think you will. However… I've sensed something within you, Miles. Something you keep buried very deep… and it became clear to me in the hotel lobby this morning. You're a kind, caring, and sweet Range Rover… but you also hide a lot of pain too… I don't know what caused you this pain, or how it started… but you try and hide it. You're hurt, Mr. Miles McCormick. I don't know why but you're in pain… and you're scared. You're blocking others from seeing deep within you…"

Axlerod's face fell into a more serious stare as she spoke to him.

"Miles, listen to me. You care about me… I can tell. You don't have to hide it. But… if this is going to go anywhere… and I think deep down you want it to… then you're going to need to open up to me. I don't like seeing you harboring this pain… this anguish within you. What happened? Did someone hurt you? I want to…" she paused here, gazing into his eyes. "Help you heal. Maybe I sound crazy but… I know you're hurt deeply by something, Miles… and I want to help you heal. Will… you let me?" she asked him, gazing across the table at him.

Gulping, Axlerod wasn't sure what to say to this. "I like you Miles… I think you're a sweet, considerate car, but you're alone… and I don't think you need an NTSB investigator to tell you that." She half-joked. "What would help you heal? What would start making that pain ease… ever so gradually even?"

Pursing his lips, the Range Rover said nothing at first. She gazed at him patiently, waiting for him to respond. "Miles, you can talk to me. I don't want you to hold this pain inside of you. I will listen to whatever you have to say… I promise." She added.

"Not everything I have to say… but… hold on!" he cut in, noticing her face starting to fall again. "I'm not… shutting the door because I don't trust you… it's just… I could cause you pain… and that's the thing that terrifies me the most right now."

"Miles… what pain could you cause me? I don't even know you all that well. I know one thing though… I hate seeing you hurting inside. Can you open up to me… or is this just a dinner and we're not going to see each other anymore after this? I feel like there's something there… but maybe I'm misreading things. You wanted to tell me something this morning… what was it?" Melina coaxed.

"Melina… I will tell you some things… someday… but right now I can't. I need… time. OK?" She nodded comfortingly at him in understanding. "But… this morning… I wanted to tell you that… I…" he felt his throat closing up. Seeing this, Melina locked eyes with him and tried to get him to relax.

"Trust me, Miles. Just calm down… and say it… I won't judge you."

"Melina…" he started again. "I… I've never been in a serious relationship before… I don't even know what one is, in fact. But I… I have… developed…" he enunciated each word, taking it slow. "Feelings… for you. Melina… you somehow manage to make me feel calm when I'm around you… like everything will be all right… I have a lot of problems, OK? A LOT of problems… and yes, I'm alone. Not entirely by choice but… well it's just how I am right now. I think I… I think I'm falling in love with you, Melina. I know we only just met a few days ago but… you're so different from every other car I've met. Leaking oil and being a lemon are the least of my concerns… so far you've been very kind to me, and haven't judged me based on what type of car I am."

"Nor would I." she broke in now. "Miles you being a lemon has NOTHING to do with what a caring, nice car you are. You're a true gentlecar, Miles, and I don't care if you leak oil or break down often. That can be fixed. Your personality though… that's what I'm most interested in." she told him seriously.

To hear her speak was a blessing and a curse. He felt so terrible for how she described him… none of it was true… but at the same time maybe it was. Was he changing for her? Somehow, his desire for revenge was just fading into the background like a fog compared to her standing across from him. She was right here, in front of him… and if only he'd met her years ago… things would be SO different… he just knew it.

"I shouldn't have admitted that." He stated here with a sigh.

"But you did. You admitted it. And I don't blame you for it… I knew you wanted to say it this morning… but for whatever reason, you couldn't."

"Because I didn't know… I'm still confused about it… I've never been in love before, Melina." Miles confessed to her. "I'm so… clueless. But everything inside of me… wants to find out what it's like. Wants to know if I really do love you or not… how… how do you feel about me?" Axlerod asked here.

"The same… and I want to find out too." A song Miles recognized started playing in the restaurant now. Most of it was background music, but this song was different.

_Maybe it's intuition_

_But some things you just don't question_

"Miles… would you like to dance?" Melina asked him here, motioning with her eyes to the large, open floor of the restaurant.

"Can we?" he asked, unsure of that.

"I don't care." She said, driving out from the table and hoping he'd follow, which he did. "Worst they'll do is throw us out." As they moved out onto the floor, he faced her right on, gazing into her eyes as he began to move slowly to the tune.

_Like in your eyes_

_I see my future in an instant_

_And there it goes_

_I think I've found my best friend_

_I know that it might sound more than _

_A little crazy but I believe_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_

_I think I dreamed you into life_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_

_I have been waiting all my life_

They turned slowly, bobbing gently to the music, the lights from the Ambera Bridge bathing them in muted blues and reds. It was a very intimate setting, and Miles moved in closer, moving up against her to nuzzle her affectionately as she nuzzled him back.

_There's just no rhyme or reason_

_Only this sense of completion_

_And in your eyes _

_I see the missing pieces_

_I'm searching for_

_I think I found my way home_

"How appropriate…" Miles whispered. "I remember Savage Garden… but I think… I think I've found my way home…"

"Mmm… yes… all those missing pieces… right here… Miles…" Milena closed her eyes and pressed herself up against him as they danced. "I wish we could stay like this… forever."

_I am complete now that I found you…_

"I do too…" he was barely talking above a whisper, closing his own eyes too as the song wound down, pressing up against her and just dancing as slowly as he could.

"I'm flying back to Britain tomorrow… come with me…" he heard her whisper.

"Uh…" Britain… the one place he shouldn't be going. But maybe… it'd be the one place they wouldn't expect to look for him, either. Still… this was like driving into the car crusher at a junkyard. But he couldn't leave her side… not now… not when things were starting to go so well. "I might have to go back to South Africa after a few days." He told her.

"Mm yes… your home. But… don't you have a place in Britain, Miles? You know, with your funds and all."

"I… do." He lied. His penthouse had been seized by the government, and it was no longer safe for him to go back. "Oh wait um… no, I don't anymore, sorry." He quickly corrected. "But I could stay in a hotel or something." Bad idea… hotels usually asked for passports…. And he knew the new one he'd had forged for himself would probably be a hot item soon.

The song ended here, and Melina began to slowly drive back to their table, Miles at her side. "Actually, I'm not sure really if I can go or not." He confessed. She seemed disappointed.

"Oh… but I'd really hate this to be the last time we see each other. Miles it wasn't just an accident that brought us together… I don't believe in mere coincidences… this… this means something. Surely you feel that way too? Our meeting was more than just an accident… I've never gotten involved with a witness on this level before… please…"

"Er… can I think about it?" He asked as he reached the table.

"Miles… don't shut the door… you finally admitted to me how you were feeling tonight… you really want to just let this go without finding out?" she asked him now.

"I don't… it's just… remember those problems I told you about? Well… turns out more than a few of them are in Britain." He tried to explain.

"Oh… I see." Melina blinked here, not expecting that. "But then again… you did say you moved to South Africa… I suppose that makes sense."

"I'm sorry I just… have problems in Britain. And I'm afraid going back there will only open up some old wounds. Do you HAVE to go to Britain tomorrow? I mean… your job is done, right? Could you maybe take some time off?" the Range Rover asked her hopefully here.

"Well… I do have reports to write… but I suppose so long as I bring my computer, it won't really matter where I write the reports. Still… I'd like to go home at some point." She admitted.

"And you will! I just… I'll need some time to work those problems out before I can head back again to Britain. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's OK. Remember… I offered to help you… I didn't expect you to be healed overnight." She responded.

Sighing in relief, he gave her a grateful look. "Thank you, Melina. That really means a lot that you're willing to give me time."

"Of course… pain doesn't heal overnight." She commented.

"Anyway… sorry about your case being covered up by Indonesia. That really angered me today to see that." Miles changed the subject.

"Yes… well… in my line of work it happens sometimes… we don't ALWAYS get the result we want." Melina replied, looking off to the side out the window. "Still, at least my report is being officially published, and we're a much larger organization than the NTSC is anyway. I can still rest easy about this one, despite not being 100% sure on it."

"But you're fairly positive on your results, right?"

"Fairly. There really isn't much other explanation, I think. It's just frustrating the way the Indonesians handled it. Oh! What did the doctor say?" she asked, smiling at him here from across the table as their food was delivered.

"Oh, heheh… well I'm leaking, he knows that much." Miles replied, rolling his eyes. "He said I need a new part… no surprise there. I really hate this old engine. It's such a pile of junk and the parts I get for it are little better."

"Why don't you just… I dunno, upgrade yourself? You know… electric or something." She suggested, without realizing the irony of it.

"Ah, well… I swore to myself that I'd not hate myself for being a lemon but… it's… kind of a promise I'm not sure I still want to keep.' He confessed.

"I mean with your money you don't have to live as a lemon, you know. You could convert yourself into anything you wanted… upgrade your engine to anything." She pointed out.

"True… I suppose I could… um… thanks by the way… for saying yes to dinner, and also for the dance. It was very… well it helped me I think." He told her sincerely. This brought a smile to her features.

"I'm very glad to hear that… now… why don't we eat, before our food gets cold?" she suggested. Both of them had ordered fish, with Miles getting swordfish and Melina having halibut. The meal was particularly delectable, and Miles ordered some dessert for them to split before paying for the meal and taking Melina back to the hotel.

Pulling up in front of the hotel, the lights of Palembang bathed the two cars in colorful blues and greens. "Well Miles… that was a wonderful time. I hope you enjoyed yourself. You really seemed relaxed after we started dancing. I myself had a great time… thank you for taking me out. Are you feeling maybe just a bit better?" Melina asked.

"I… yes. I am." Miles informed her, giving her a small smile. "Thanks for saying yes to my invite. I really had a good time. It's a gradual process but yes… you made me feel a bit better about… things." He didn't elaborate, but he knew he didn't need to.

"Fantastic! And if you need anything… don't hesitate to talk to me. I'll listen to anything you have to say. And… I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, too. Have a good night, Miles." Driving up to him, Melina delivered a small kiss to his side, then drove into the hotel, leaving Miles gazing after her as his smile widened.

"Good night!" He called, sighing happily, and drove in shortly after she did.

* * *

Inside Siddeley, Finn drove up the ramp and could see Holley already waiting for him inside. "Where's Zundapp?" Holley asked.

"He told me he wasn't interested… in not such polite terms." Finn told her. "So we're on our own for the moment. Did you turn up any leads, Ms. Shiftwell?" Finn asked hopefully.

"Actually, I did!" Holley replied, bringing up a screen now. "See I've been scanning news reports, and someone sent in these pictures from Palembang. Recognize anyone in the crowd? This was at a press conference for a crashed airliner."

Finn narrowed his eyes, and gazed at the shot of a green Range Rover apparently outraged at something in the crowd. "Well, well… hello Mr. Axlerod. Good work, Holley! Siddeley!"

"Finn?" came Siddeley's voice.

"Set a course for Palembang! We're going to Indonesia!"


	7. Chapter 7: Heroes of the Sky

**Author's Note**: So we have a perspective change here. Thanks to a movie I recently saw, we've got some new characters making an appearance in this chapter which I think you all will appreciate. :) I'd like to say that Captain John Hanson and his crew were phenomenal in safely landing their plane and saving all 404 people in 2002, and I'd like to dedicate this chapter to their heroism and excellent CRM (crew resource management) that allowed them to triumph against the odds and save their passengers and plane. They're real heroes, and fantastic pilots, and this chapter is all them.

Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the 298 people who died tragically a few days ago on Malaysian Airlines Flight 17. Unlike in this chapter, heroes can't always emerge to save the day, but they will not be forgotten.

**Back to the Story**

The white, snow-covered mountains that rose majestically over the city of Anchorage, Alaska, stole the former crop duster's breath away as he gazed, awestruck, ahead of him at the scenery. "Wow!" Dusty gasped, a smile crossing his features as he admired the majestic mountains and the tranquil waters of Anchorage harbor stretching out before him.

"It's really something, isn't it champ?" The words came from a red helicopter, whose rotors were beating the air as he flew by the SEAT's side.

"I'll say! Never been to Alaska before, but this is really something else!" Dusty Crophopper and Blade Ranger were flying north. It was a few days after Propwash Junction's annual corn festival that had been such a major hit this year, thanks in no small part to the air attack team of Piston Peak National Park showing up to put on quite the show. But it was back to work now for Dusty, who needed to be trained on how to battle airport fires. Fortunately, the Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport had kindly offered to provide Dusty with some training this weekend, and so it was that the former crop duster and his firefighting mentor were heading north for some intensive training in combating airport blazes.

"Good morning Anchorage, this is Blade Ranger of the Piston Peak air attack team calling you. We're only a few minutes out, and I'd like to get some landing clearance for both myself and my partner here. As scheduled, we're here for firefighting simulations later this afternoon."

"Blade Ranger, copy, good morning. This is Anchorage tower. Vector out to route 239, hold, and you'll be second in line for landing this morning. Runway Seven Left. Copy?"

"Copy that, tower! Runway Seven Left! Vector 239! We'll head out there and await your clearance!" Blade responded, looking over at Dusty to make sure he understood. Dusty gave a single nod, and the two aircraft turned to the left and headed out over the bay as they lined themselves up for a landing on Runway Seven Left.

Dusty closed his eyes, loving the feel of the wind against his face. Only a few days ago, it looked as if he'd never fly again, but here he was, better than new, and ready to take part in his new training. Anchorage had facilities necessary to conduct fire training, as Propwash Junction lacked such facilities necessary to train Dusty.

"Blade Ranger, this is tower. You are second in line behind the Korean Airlines 747 heavy, copy?"

"Copy that! We see him!" Blade replied, noting the big blue body of the jumbo jet going in for its landing now. "Dusty, you know about wake turbulence, right?"

Heard of it!" Dusty responded.

"Well we're gonna wanna stay clear of that big 747 heavy, got it? His wings create vortexes that could easily throw you on your side, so keep a safe distance, champ." Blade instructed.

"Will do!" Dusty radioed back. He backed off his throttle a bit. Whenever Blade gave him advice, Dusty listened. He'd come to gain a deep respect for the helicopter, and so it was that he made sure to follow at a safe distance behind the big 747 before he started his own approach.

"Blade Ranger, this is tower. Cleared for landing, Runway Seven Left."

"Copy that! All right Dusty, I'm gonna set myself down on the helipad… good luck on your landing! I'll see you on the ground!" Blade banked to the right now, taking a more direct approach to the airport as Dusty began descending. Setting his wheels out, the pontoon plane lined himself up and came in for his landing, bumping down smoothly and throttling back to slow himself as he taxied over to where Blade had set down. "Nice landing, champ! All right… let's go meet your instructor." Rolling himself over the tarmac, Blade led the way to Hanger 5, where he'd been told Dusty's instructor would be waiting.

"So you aren't training me, Blade?" Dusty asked here.

"Well I'll certainly help out, but no, you're going to be evaluated by a professional airport firefighter. Don't worry… if you can fight wildfires, battling fires in buildings is a piece of cake. We'll get you trained in no time!" Blade told him confidently.

"All right! Well I'm ready… and hey… Blade… thanks for coming up here." Dusty said. "You know I really appreciate having you with me for this… it means a lot to know the best air attack helicopter in the business has my back." Dusty told his mentor gratefully.

"Hey champ…" Blade paused here as they made their way over to the hanger. "You did something I never thought I'd see out of you at Piston Peak. You fought one hell of a battle and you gave up yourself for others. I WANT to see you succeed as a firefighter, got that? You're one of the best damn SEATs I've ever trained, and your education is important to me, OK? This is no paint off my back, you got that? You ever need anything, you don't hesitate to ask." Blade told him sincerely.

"Thanks Blade… it does mean a lot." Dusty reiterated. He knew he was in good company whenever Blade was close. The helicopter had never given up on him, even when he'd been acting like a total jerk and getting himself into trouble multiple times during his training. Blade was a truly selfless aircraft, and Dusty could see that now. He knew Blade had a busy schedule, so to take some time out to help him improve as a firefighter only enhanced Dusty's already deep respect for his mentor. Little did either of them know… but Dusty's training was going to get off to a roaring start today…

* * *

500 miles to the west, out over the Bering Sea, a big Northwest Airlines 747 was cruising serenely on his way to Tokyo's Narita International Airport. He had departed Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport hours ago, and was now about two-thirds of the way through the trip, though he still had more than six hours to go before reaching Tokyo. Aboard him today were 386 passengers and 18 crew. Counting himself, 404 in all.

Captain John Hanson gave out a big yawn. It was just about time for him to sleep on this long flight while his flight crew took over flying him for the last leg of the journey. He'd wake up for the landing at Narita once he arrived over Japan. His cockpit door opened, and in drove a bespectacled SUV. Already at the controls in the first officer's position was First Officer Mike Fagan, a BMW who'd been on the flight only a short time as Senior First Officer David Smith was resting.

"Hey Frank, how are you?" Fagan asked the relief captain, Frank Geib.

"Pretty good! Ready for your rest, Captain Hanson?" Captain Geib asked the big jumbo jet.

"Am I ever." Hanson responded, smiling to himself.

"Well just close your eyes and drift off. We'll keep ya level, don't worry." Geib reassured him.

"All righty! Wake me up when we're over Japan!" Hanson instructed, and closed his eyes, his smile widening as he just let his soothing flight path lull him into sleep. Before long, the big 747 was sleeping soundly as his flight crew took over on the controls and kept him flying towards Tokyo.

"So how's the flight been?" Geib asked. Captain Hanson was one of the most luxurious 747s in Northwest Airlines' fleet. There was a spacious cabin for the flight crew to rest in during the long voyages, and Geib had been sleeping in it well until he'd woken up for his shift.

"Oh fine so far." Fagan responded, eating his dinner. "No incidents to report. We're making good time, and should arrive in Tokyo right on the nose."

"Great! You ever check out Tokyo?" Geib asked.

"Never really in depth. You?" Fagan replied.

"Yeah… in fact, I know this great pizza place you should totally check out, if you like pizza. I love flying into Tokyo at night… so many lights, and the neon and everything. It's fantastic." Geib sighed happily, pleased to have one of the coolest jobs in the world in his opinion.

"Nice… I'll have to check it out." Fagan responded. "You want some dinner?"

"Nah that's OK." Geib replied.

"You sure?"

"Trust me, I'm good." Geib reiterated.

The flight continued normally for the next 20 minutes or so, but that soon changed in dramatic fashion. As Geib flew the big jumbo jet, a violent lurch suddenly reverberated throughout the plane, and Hanson began to roll sharply to the left, quickly passing 30 degrees and rolling towards 40, a dangerous angle.

"What the hell?" Geib asked, reacting quickly to correct the roll. Hanson snorted, and immediately came awake.

"Huh? Wha?" he asked sleepily, immediately noticing a pain in his tail.

"Did we lose an engine?" Geib asked as he struggled to control the jet. He jerked the control stick hard to the right in order to throw the ailerons into a position to counteract the roll, and mashed his tire down onto Hanson's right rudder pedal.

"What's going on?" Hanson asked blearily. "Oooh! That's… ow! That's… weird!" he exclaimed, noticing a very strange sensation in his tail. Shortly, his roll was corrected, and fortunately, a catastrophe was averted thanks to Geib's quick actions, but it was clear Captain Hanson was in serious trouble.

"What's wrong? Did we lose an engine?" Geib asked his senior captain again.

"No… no we didn't. I think… I think something's busted in my tail!" Hanson exclaimed painfully. "I think it's the rudder! It's… weird. It's almost like… it's almost like the lower rudder's jammed or something! Agh!" he cried out, trying to move it but failing.

Boeing 747s were unique in that they had two rudders: an upper and lower one. This made them more resistant to rudder failures, but it was clear from the situation that Hanson was in trouble.

"Is it a rudder hard over?" Geib asked with concern. If something was broken… it might only get worse. He had control right now, but who knew how long that would last.

"I can't tell… all I know is it hurts and I can't control it. We need to get on the ground, NOW! If my rudder fails… we'll lose all control!" Hanson pointed out. Suddenly, memories of catastrophic tail failures such as the one that had occurred on Alaska Airlines Flight 261 flashed through his mind. The crew on that flight had struggled to control their plane while they attempted to divert to LA but hadn't made it. A critical section of that plane's tail had completely broken off and sent the plane into a steep dive that had killed all onboard. If Hanson broke any further, he knew he and his passengers could be facing the same fate. "How far is Tokyo?" Hanson asked.

"Still six hours away!" Geib responded.

"Damn! We need something closer! What's the closest airport? We're gonna need to divert!" Hanson ordered.

"Uh… Anchorage! But it's over two hours away!" Fagan responded, quickly checking his manual. "500 miles!"

Damn…" Hanson cursed again. "That's… that's our only shot." Fear was beginning to rise in him as he kept thinking of Alaska Airlines Flight 261. It didn't feel to him like his horizontal stabilizer was failing though… so that was something. But still… if his rudder got any worse, it could be disastrous for this flight. "Can you control the roll?" he asked his flight crew now.

"Yeah but I gotta basically hold the ailerons hard over and keep my tire pressed on your right rudder pedal. It's… really… hard." Geib grunted, the physical strain of keeping the plane level already starting to drain him. He had to push down on the pedal with all his might, and also keep the control stick hard over on its right side.

"Uhh… all right… Geib… let me take over, OK?" Hanson asked. "You can't possibly hold that position for over two hours, after all. I'll keep my ailerons and rudder hard over…"

"But captain! That'll put too much stress on you! You're gonna need help!" Geib insisted.

"Just… let me do this, for now, OK? That's an order." Hanson stated.

"Well… all right…" Geib said hesitantly.

"Take your tire slowly off the pedal… and slowly let go of the control stick… I'll take over." Captain Hanson assured him. "Mike, I need you to look through the manual and see what it says for a rudder malfunction or rudder hard over."

"Right!" Fagan backed up and pulled out a manual to begin flipping through it as Geib slowly lifted his tire off the rudder pedal and released the badly shaking control stick as Captain Hanson took control.

"Ugh… this is… I see what you mean by difficult. I don't even think I can turn right… I mean the rudder and ailerons are all the way over, but we're just barely flying level right now. Damn! What could've gone wrong? I've never experienced this before!" Captain Hanson exclaimed. "Declare an emergency! Alert Anchorage that we're diverting to them!"

"Got it!" Fagan responded as he continued to flip through the manual. "This is Northwest Airlines Flight 85. We are declaring an emergency! We have issues with our rudder of unknown origin! We require immediate diversion to Anchorage! Come in Anchorage! Do you copy?" Fagan asked, finding the right page for rudder malfunctions. "Repeat, this Northwest Airlines Flight 85. We are declaring an emergency…" Fagan repeated his call, but there was no answer from Anchorage. "I think we're out of range, sir!" Fagan relayed to his captain.

"Dammit… all right… let's assess our options and think about this." Hanson said, trying to take a step back and think things through. "All right look… we can make a left turn… very slowly… but that might be risky with my rudder being busted. If I alter the power to my left and right engines, increasing thrust on the left side engines and decreasing it on the right side, I'll be able to turn myself back towards Anchorage. We could try that! Mike, what's the manual say?" Captain Hanson asked his first officer.

"It just says decrease hydraulic fluid to the affected area!" Fagan called back.

"That's all?" Hanson asked in disbelief. "Yeah well, that's not gonna help us. OK first things first. Let's try turning me around using my engines. Frank, I'm gonna need you to handle my throttles… I'm gonna focus on keeping myself level and Mike, I'm gonna need you to contact Northwest Flight 19, which is an hour behind us I think. He can relay our distress call to Anchorage, and let them know we're gonna need help. We can do this guys if we stay calm and keep our heads about us. Frank, get on the throttles and increase thrust to my left engines when I tell you, OK?" Hanson delivered his orders in a collected fashion, knowing that panic would only serve to get them all killed. "Mike… when I feel like I'm exerting myself too much, you're gonna need to take over on my controls to give me a bit of a rest, OK?"

"Got it!" Fagan responded gamely.

"Captain, are you sure about this engine thing? If your rudder fully breaks… increasing thrust on one side of you will cause us to lose total control…" Geib cautioned.

"I know, Frank… but what choice do we have? We HAVE to turn this flight around and get it on the ground as soon as possible. We're too far from Tokyo, and even though we're two hours from Anchorage, it's our only hope. We've gotta try something, after all." Captain Hanson pointed out.

Fagan got on the radio and attempted to contact Northwest Flight 19 while Geib rolled forward and pushed his tires onto the throttle levers. "OK… increase thrust… now!" Hanson ordered, and Geib pushed the left levers forward, raising the power on the left two engines as the big 747 began to turn to the right. "It's working! I'm turning! I'm turning!" Hanson exclaimed happily as they began to come about.

"I've got Northwest 19, sir! They said they'll relay our message on to Anchorage!" Fagan declared happily.

"OK… good… I'm gonna try and hold us steady… man this hurts!" Hanson complained, struggling to keep his ailerons and upper rudder hard over. "We need to tell the passengers what's going on… I mean no need to panic them, but they need to know we're diverting to Anchorage."

"I-I can handle that!" Geib stammered. "Yeah! I'll go take care of it after your turn is completed."

"Good… OK… and we're coming around… ease back on the throttles for engines one and two, Frank." Geib pulled the levers back until they were about level with the ones on the right, and Hanson's turn slowed and then stopped altogether. "OK great… go tell the passengers… tell them everything's going to be OK… and then come back up here. I'm gonna need you to help me turn again once we start our approach."

"Got it, captain! I'll be right back!" Geib stated, and reversed his way out of the cockpit to go make the announcement to the passengers. As for Fagan, all he could do was watch, mystified, as Hanson's control sticks shook violently from the effort it was taking to keep the ailerons hard over.

"Are you… OK, captain?" Fagan asked, staring at the vibrating control sticks as if mesmerized.

"Yeah! But… ugh! It's an effort, that's for sure! I think I should try descending… get into thicker air to create more lift… holding it steady at 35,000 feet is just… it's a huge strain."

"Just… be careful, captain. We don't know if your tail's about to break off… if it's damaged… if it lost hydraulic control… we just don't know. I mean it could break off if we stress it too much." Fagan warned.

"I know that! I'm gonna take it down to 28,000 feet so we can get some more lift on my wings, though! I really can't do this for another ten minutes, Mike! I can't!" Hanson cried, and Fagan nodded.

"OK… just take it slow… I'll take over if you need it." The first officer offered.

"Not yet… I got this… but thanks… OK… let's… try this…" Hanson pushed his control stick forward, starting to gradually descend through the blue skies. Fagan nervously watched as the altimeter began counting down, the numbers rolling before his eyes as Hanson got lower… and lower… and lower… and finally leveled off at 28,000 feet. No catastrophic failure… no loud noises… no nothing. They were still flying. Sighing heavily, Fagan closed his eyes briefly.

"How is it, captain?" he asked now.

"Better… I think I can go for longer… I'll let you know when I need a break, OK?"

"You got it… I'm right here… I'll take over the second you need it."

Back in the cabin, Geib was finishing up his announcement. "There's no cause for alarm. We're diverting to Anchorage to get this problem taken care of. As of right now, we're in control of the flight, so just relax… you're not in immediate danger." The SUV could see the look of panic in the passengers' eyes though. Some couples huddled closer together in their seats, and others exchanged worried glances. Geib wished he could say more, but he had no idea what was going on with the tail. It wasn't catastrophic… at least not yet. He clearly remembered a China Airlines plane suffering a complete failure of its tail, which had broken off in flight, causing the entire aircraft to disintegrate in the mid-air… there had been no survivors. It was best to just not think about this, and push it from his mind. He forced it out like a hammer ripping out a nail. He just hoped they would all be OK… there were 403 vehicles aboard all told… that was an extremely high number to lose in just one aircraft… the worst air disaster in history had occurred at Tenerife when two 747s had collided with each other on the runway… 583 died in that incident. On this flight alone there was more than half that number heading to Japan… they had to save these passengers… they just had to!

* * *

Back at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, Dusty was performing dives over a building that was designed to be set on fire in order to train air attack units in helping to combat blazes on the ground. Racing downward towards the rising smoke and the dancing flames, Dusty narrowed his eyes, trying to hit the altitude just right.

"Watch your speed, champ!" he could hear Blade calling in his radio. "Too fast and you're gonna overshoot your target! Remember, this is a building burning… not an entire forest! Throttle back!"

"Right!" Dusty backed off the throttle a bit, pulling his nose up to level off and zoom over the building before dumping his payload and letting the water fall in a highly concentrated dose down towards the fire.

"There we go! Looking good, champ!" Blade praised as Dusty was just about right on the mark. He'd come in slightly too fast, but he hadn't been too far off target. "Now remember to WATCH your airspace! Most airports will shut down in the event of a fire, but don't take any foolish chances! Make sure you're clear as you come out of your dive!"

"Got it!" Dusty scanned from right to left to make sure he wasn't going to collide with anyone. Just then, the airport's PA system buzzed in his ear.

"Attention Anchorage Airport… we have a 747 heavy that's declared an emergency and is diverting to us! All emergency vehicles please standby!"

"A 747? Hey Blade! Did you hear that?" Dusty called down to him.

"Sure did!" was the reply.

"Hey tower! That 747 heavy that's in trouble… how many passengers is it carrying? Where is it? What's wrong?" Dusty radioed.

"Tower reads you, Crophopper 7. Northwest Airlines Flight 85 is roughly 500 miles northwest of here, carrying 403 vehicles aboard, reporting rudder problems and inability to steer. They're about 2 hours away." The tower responded.

"They might need some help! Blade, what do you think?" Dusty asked, flying back over the airport but keeping his altitude low to avoid incoming and outgoing flights.

Blade was inwardly pleased to hear Dusty offering to help those he didn't even know, but knew the SEAT would have to handle this one alone. "I don't have the range to make that, champ. This one's all you! Get out there and lead 'em in! See what kind of damage they got! But stay within your range! You won't be able to refuel out there!"

"Will do! By the time I meet them, they should probably only be about 300 miles out!" Dusty had a range of 800 miles on a full tank, so reaching the troubled flight should be no problem for him.

"I'll meet you when you're getting close! Since they'll be coming in from the north, they're gonna need help clearing that mountain range! Lead 'em over the mountains to the airport! Let us know what damage they got!" Blade suggested.

"Copy!" Dusty stated as he landed on one of the side tarmacs, and drove himself up to the refueling station. "Fill me up! I need to get out there, fast!"

The fuel was pushed into his tank as rapidly as it could go, Dusty waiting impatiently for the refueling to be complete before he heard the shutoff terminate the process with a thump and he knew he was good to go. Throttling up with a roar, he detached from the fuel probe and taxied out to the runway. "Tower! Can you clear me for takeoff?" Dusty radioed.

"Wait for an incoming Japan Airlines flight, Crophopper 7! Once it lands, you'll be cleared for takeoff on Runway Seven Right!" was the tower's response.

"Seven Right, copy!" Dusty pushed himself towards the correct runway, scanning for the big incoming flight as it touched down with a screech of its brakes and great whooshing from its reverse thrusters kicking in. After the JAL flight safely passed him, Dusty increased speed and tore down the runway, lifting off with no issues as he radioed in to the tower once more. "Tower, can you give me their exact position? I'll vector out there and bring them in!"

"Copy, Crophopper 7. Last known position of Northwest 85 was…" Relaying the coordinates to the SEAT, Dusty picked them up and narrowed his eyes as he increased speed, determined to reach that flight and do what he could.

"Good luck, champ! See you when you get closer!" came Blade's words through his radio, and Dusty intently focused on the task at hand as he began vectoring himself out to towards Northwest 85.

* * *

Out over the Bering Sea, Captain Hanson was continuing to struggle to make his way to Anchorage. He'd been apprised by the airport once he'd gotten within radio range that a small aircraft was being dispatched to asses the damage and help guide them back in. Hanson was taking a break, resting his strained innards as Fagan was battling with the controls to keep the jet level. They switched off every 20 minutes, with first Hanson resting then Fagan taking a break to stretch and limber up before going back at it. They were now about an hour from the airport, having covered good distance since the problem was first discovered. So far there had been no further deterioration of control, but it was a battle to keep Hanson flying level, that was for sure.

The good news was that they hadn't suffered a complete loss of hydraulics. There had been only one example of a successful landing without hydraulics in the history of aviation, and every other landing attempt under such conditions had ended with deaths. "Northwest 85!" Their radio rang with the exuberant and determined voice of a newcomer. "This is Dusty Crophopper, the air racer! I see you dead ahead! I'm coming from Anchorage to lead you back in! I'm gonna make a circle to see what kind of damage you got, and then I'll stay with you all the way to the airport!"

Hanson narrowed his eyes, and tried to spot the small plane racing towards him. A flash of red suddenly gave him away, and Hanson smiled to himself. "Glad to see ya, Crophopper! We've been holding our own so far, but we need to know how bad the rudder is. We've been forced to use the ailerons and partial rudder control to keep me flying. Help is appreciated!"

"I'm on it!" Dusty zoomed by them and then slowed as he executed his circle, eyes sweeping over the rear of the 747 to check out what was going on back there. Immediately, he could discern an aberration in the jumbo jet's rudder. The lower rudder was shoved out to the left, but the upper rudder was over to the right. "It looks like your lower rudder is jammed!" Dusty radioed to the crew. "You can't move it at all, right?"

"Negative! We've been unable to have any impact on it thus far. Anything else?"

"I think that's it!" Dusty responded. "I can't see any signs of physical damage aside from your rudder being out of whack. If you let go of the controls, the plane will roll! I also see vibrations on the fuselage… you guys must be really struggling to hold the flight together!"

"Yeah." Was Hanson's reply. "We've been fighting this the whole way."

"All right. Well I'll stay with you and lead you over the mountains to Anchorage! Just hang on! You're only about an hour away! You guys can make it!" Dusty encouraged.

The racer turned firefighter zoomed out in front of the 747 as they continued on their way to Anchorage. A half hour later, Hanson was back in control, but the control stick was shaking even more violently by this point. "What do you think, Mike?"

Fagan stared at the shaking column and looked out the window. They had a half hour to go before the airport. "I think… we should lower our altitude and configure for landing. I mean… we'd best do that now in the air… if any problems are gonna happen… may as well have them happen high up as opposed to our final approach."

"Right! OK… I'll bring it down to 14,000 and see what happens!" Hanson responded. 14,000 was a nice safe altitude to try things at. It would give Hanson enough room to maneuver in case another emergency developed.

"Permission to descend to 14,000 feet over Cook Inlet, Northwest 85." Fagan radioed in to Anchorage.

"Uh that's a negative… lots of traffic over Cook." Came the tower's response.

"Um… could you maybe clear the traffic?" Dusty suggested. "This is an emergency, and this is the only course of action they have! They should get priority here!"

After a moment's hesitation, the tower radioed back. "That's an affirmative. We'll get everyone else out of your way."

Hanson began his slow descent, struggling to hold on and not let the exertions overpower him. He knew one small slip of his rudder could spell disaster. "OK! Flaps 5!" he ordered, and second Captain Geib reached forward to extend the flaps. The tension was mounting as Hanson knew each new thing they tried only increased the risk of something breaking. "Gear down!" he ordered now, and Fagan reached out to obey, dropping the level to lower Hanson's landing gear. This would increase drag and slow them down, but so far, everything seemed OK. However, the lower they got, and the slower they went, the more the plane started shaking with the increased drag upon the hull. "Agh!" Hanson yelled out, the strain doubling on him now to keep himself level. "Mike! I'm gonna need ya to… take over! Are you ready?" Hanson asked with a sprained voice.

"I'm ready…" Fagan responded, staring at the control stick and taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He reached out, pressing his tire down onto the rudder pedal, and used his other wheel to take hold of the control stick. "Let go, sir!"

Hanson sighed as he relaxed, relieved the pressure could be lifted for a time.

"Hey! Have you thought about adding 20 knots to your approach speed?" Dusty radioed in, noticing how badly the jet was shaking behind him and wanting to help them out.

"No! We hadn't thought of that! Let's try it!" Hanson responded. He increased his speed by 20 knots, throttling up slightly as Dusty set the pace. Immediately, the vibrations lessened, and the strain on Fagan began to ease up. "Great suggestion, Crophopper! It's working! OK! Prepare the cabin for a crash landing! Let the passengers know they'll need to brace for impact, and let's start configuring ourselves for this approach. I do NOT… no correct that. We CANNOT do a missed approach! We HAVE to do this in one try!" the captain urged gallantly. "Let's use the engines to steer… the lower we get the more impossible it's going to be to hang on to the controls. One and two up! Three and four, down!"

Geib pushed forward on the left throttle whilst pulling the right one back now as the mountains came into view. "You guys got it?" Dusty asked, beginning to descend now to lead them over the mountains. He could suddenly see Blade appear before him, hovering and waiting for him as the big jumbo jet started its final descent. "Blade! They've only got one shot at this! Their rudder is jammed! No indication of what caused it! If they miss their approach they won't be able to go around again!"

"Copy that Dusty, loud and clear! Anchorage has emergency vehicles standing by! How's your tank?" Blade asked.

"About 50% capacity! I can make one run if there's a fire!"

"Let's just hope there isn't! If needs be, I can use my hoist to get passengers to safety! Bring 'em in, champ! Let's finish this!"

On the ground, as the jumbo jet was growing in size on the horizon, emergency vehicles were rolling now, lights flashing, sirens wailing, and tires screeching as they scrambled out of their hangers and headed for the runway that Hanson was lining up for. "Captain Hanson! I'm gonna stay airborne in case you guys need a firefighter overhead! I'll approach the runway but pull off at the last minute, OK? Just take it slow!" Dusty called back to the big jet.

"Copy that, Crophopper. A thousand dollars for a rearview mirror right now." Hanson joked, trying to lighten the mood on the flight deck. He couldn't see the state his tail was in, but it wasn't going to stop him now. This was the most dangerous landing he'd ever attempted in his life. If his rudder broke on descent, the increased thrust to the left engines would cause him to spin uncontrollably, and would most likely result in a disastrous crash. "So uh… what do you think, Crophopper? Can we do it?"

"I think you need to go for it! Remember though, on landing, your rudder's attached to your nose gear! Whatever direction it's pointing, your nose gear's gonna go that way too!" Dusty reminded them.

"And when that happens, Mike you take the column and brakes, I'll take the tiller! We're coming in fast! Over 180 mph! Are the passengers braced?" Hanson asked the purser.

"Yes captain." Was her response over the intercom. All the cars were hunkered down, wishing, praying, and hoping that nothing tragic would occur and that today would not be the last day of their lives. Hanson focused intently… if ever there was a time he needed to fly perfectly… this was it. He was back in control from Fagan now, muscling himself level and trying to ignore the violent shaking to line himself up for the runway.

"Northwest 85, cleared to land." Came the calm voice of Anchorage's tower controller. Hanson could see the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles below him as the runway got closer… and closer… and closer… "Emergency equipment is standing by."

"Roger! Cleared to land!" Fagan responded.

Dusty zoomed over the fire trucks, buzzing their tops as he pulled out of his descent and began to climb. "Go for it guys!" he urged, pulling up to give them room.

Hanson dipped lower and lower… mere inches from the runway's surface now. "Here we go!" he exclaimed. "Touchdown in five! Prepare for impact!" He called to the stewardess, who ordered the passengers to brace. Then the wheels hit five seconds later, jarring everyone as the tires screeched and skid and Hanson struggled to keep himself on the runway.

"Got it?" Fagan asked, applying the brakes and holding the control stick.

"I got it!" Hanson replied, focusing solely on his front wheels now with the tiller. He spun the tiller to keep his nose gear straight. Behind them, the fire trucks and emergency vehicles tore after the plane, speeding down the runway to keep up, their lights creating an eerie backdrop as the plane slowed… and slowed… and slowed. "We got it!" Hanson exclaimed happily, sensing he was now in complete control. The crew let out a collective sigh as they slowed to a crawl, and then to a halt. "Good job Mike! Good job guys!" Hanson praised. "So what do we do for an encore?" the big jet joked, eliciting a nervous chuckle from everyone on the flight deck.

"Not that!" Fagan replied, breaking out into happy sobs here.

"YES!" Dusty yelled triumphantly, ecstatic at the result. He performed a happy flip, letting his water tank go in an impressive display of celebration as he gave out a loud "WHOOOO!" his water trail spraying out behind him.

Blade chuckled to himself, and smiled at Dusty's display. The passengers erupted in cheers, whooping and hollering and honking in delight. The plane was safe, and they had made it!

"Hey Crophopper! Thanks for talking us down! You kept us cool up there!" Hanson praised the SEAT.

"Hey… no problem!" Dusty responded happily, the widest of smiles on his faces. "I'm a firefighter! Keeping folks cool is what I do!"

"Hell of a job, champ! I'm proud of ya!" Blade stated, flying next to him now as Dusty let out a massive exhale. "You continue to impress me every day!"

"Thanks, Blade! Means a lot! Now let's get on the ground and see if anyone needs any medical attention!"

"Copy that! Let's go!"

Northwest Airlines Flight 85 had made it safely to the ground. All 404 vehicles survived. There were no fatalities. But now the NTSB would need to step in and investigate just what had caused Captain Hanson's lower rudder to fail, and figure out what could be done to prevent such an occurrence from ever happening again.


	8. Chapter 8: Pursued

**Author's Note: **Kind of a shorter chapter, but I didn't want to overdo it, so I hope it's OK! We get to see another cameo here! :D As always, thanks my readers for your reviews! Glad you're loving this story so far!

The sunlight streamed in through the apartment's expansive windows. The view outside was breathtaking, and had a great view looking out over the suburbs of Washington D.C. Melina was up bright and early, as she needed to head into the office today to deliver her final report on SumatraAir 185. As it turned out, she and Miles had settled on flying back to her main offices in D.C. as opposed to going to Britain. Miles had graciously offered to pay for first-class tickets aboard an Airbus 380, the largest aircraft in the skies. They had enjoyed a luxurious flight with Singapore Airlines out of Jakarta all the way to New York City. First class on an Airbus 380 had everything a car could want, including a bar and small lounge for first class travelers. The 380 was the first plane capable of flying non-stop from Dubai to Los Angeles, a distance of almost 10,000 miles (or literally almost halfway around the globe). It had an excellent safety record to date, and had proved one of the most memorable flights Melina had ever taken.

She and Miles had watched some movies, shared a few drinks, and chatted up a storm before Miles had slid on a pair of headphones and had drifted off to sleep for the extremely long flight. Almost 17 hours later, their flight had touched down in New York, where they'd hopped a commuter flight to the capital of the United States, and Melina had invited Miles into her apartment for the night to repay him for the no doubt expensive plane tickets. Axlerod had been a true gentlecar, and had accepted the invitation with modesty, fighting off his jet lag until it was time to sleep, and sleep he did, going to bed early on their first night in the States.

Thus here they were, back in Melina's corporate hometown for a bit of a stay. Driving over to her guest room, Melina pushed the slightly ajar door open some more, and smiled as she saw Miles sleeping peacefully, a large smile on his face as the light played off his green flake paint. He was certainly "dashingly handsome" when he slept, and she tapped a wheel on the ground lightly. "Miiiiiles." She called softly. "I need to head into work soon."

"Mm?" the Range Rover murmured, stirring slightly.

"Hey! You can still sleep, but I thought I'd let you know I'm leaving soon!"

"Uh?" Axlerod's eyes slid slowly up, then blinked rapidly as he saw Melina standing in the doorway. "Oh! Is it morning already?" he asked, yawning and stretching his tires out a bit.

"Indeed, it is. Looks like you slept well. I'm off to work soon."

"Oh!" Miles seemed to come more awake here. "How much time?"

"Half an hour. I'll be getting some breakfast then-"

But Miles interrupted the Daimler with a honk of his horn. "No, no! I'M making breakfast! You just sit back and relax! I'll get cracking right away!" Before she could protest, the Range Rover was zipping past her, out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, the Daimler watching him go as a smile spread across her face.

Within ten minutes, Axlerod had whipped up some eggs and bacon with toast. Sliding her plate across to her, he gave her a wide smile. "Hope you like it!"

"Well Miles, this was rather sweet of you. What's the occasion?" Melina asked, looking down at her food before sampling it.

"No occasion… except you know… I kinda have feelings for you that I'm still working out and want to be nice to you all the time." He half-joked, but was pretty serious all the same. This elicited a chuckle from her.

"Mmm well… you're a pretty good breakfast cook." She complimented.

"Thanks!" he responded, beaming.

"I guess billionaires DON'T rely entirely on servants, eh?" she let a small laugh escape her lips here.

"Well… you'd be surprised at what I learned growing up. I wasn't born into money, after all." He reminded her.

"Well it's good all the same. I didn't mean to knock it. Anyway, if you want something to do today, I recommend checking out Old Ignition Grille. It's a great place for lunch, right down near the White House and across from the Treasury Building. I'll be done at 5:00, and I should have free time after today, so I plan to take a little vacation, if you'd be up for." Melina suggested.

"Grille with an E?" Miles asked of the pun. "And sure! I'd love to… well I just got back from vacation but if you get one, I'd love to go!" he said here, smiling across the table at her.

"Yes with an E… and don't worry. We'll go someplace we both want to go. Most of your vacation was taken up by my investigation after all… so let's take some time just for us." Melina stated.

"I'd love to do that! And don't worry about 'ruining' my vacation… its quite all right! I don't mind at all! I met you after all! So far it was the best vacation I've ever taken!" he declared.

"Well I suppose so… anyway, I'd better get going. Thanks for breakfast." She drove from around the table now, and delivered a small kiss to his side. "If you want to stay here, feel free, but if you're going to go out, just lock the door behind you, and remember, you won't be able to come back here until I'm off work if you do so."

"OK… let me drive you to the door, then!" Miles offered, pulling up alongside her. "Hope you have a good day at work!"

"Heh… I'll be thinking about you, I'm sure." She admitted.

"Really? Well… I'll be doing the same all day!" he laughed, opening the door for her. "See you tonight! I'll think about where we can go! All this flying! If we're going someplace faraway, let's take another Airbus 380!" he suggested. "I had fun on the flight over!"

"Hm-hm, so did I! Well, see you tonight!" she honked, and drove off now, heading for the NTSB's headquarter at L'Enfant Plaza. Miles watched her go, then headed back inside. Reality suddenly chose to slap him in the face in that instant. Was he really here, in this moment? What was he doing? Now that he was back in the States, he could start properly planning his revenge… but how could he possibly balance that with Melina? He finally felt… "normal" for once, but it was being threatened by the constant fact that he was a fugitive on the run, and could only keep this up for so long. What could he possibly do? He couldn't just hide out with her forever… but he was so confused!

He wanted revenge, but he also wanted what he had with her right now. He wanted to let her help him… maybe he could surrender himself to the authorities and plead for clemency… but no… he was one of the worst criminals on the planet… there's no way they'd grant him leniency. It was so ironic… the one time he genuinely felt himself changing for the better was the time he couldn't actually enjoy it… what a truly awful predicament he found himself in. Maybe he should come clean with Melina… she did say he could tell her anything, after all. Maybe she could come up with a way to help him.

Taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, the Range Rover thought this through. OK… so tell Melina after work… confess to her who he was, and see if she could fix things. Maybe over dinner? Yes! That could work! If there was anyone in this entire world who could understand him, it was her. He loved her… he knew that much… and if she could be trusted, he could tell her.

Starting to feel a bit better about this, he decided to settle his mind by doing some reading, and then heading out to lunch at Old Ignition Grille before checking out the nation's capital. He hadn't been here in ages after all, so it might be cool to see some of the monuments he hadn't yet been to.

* * *

Old Ignition Grille was a popular favorite among high-ranking government executives and even a few presidents had eaten there over the years. It dated back to President Grant's time, so had a bit of an illustrious history. Miles was at the bar, savoring some of the delectable gourmet food the restaurant had to offer. It was truly in a league of its own, but perhaps a little too high end for his tastes as well, if such a thing were possible.

Beside him, some white SUV was moaning and ruining the otherwise perfect setting. "Ugggh! My life is over! Bartender! Another Carona down here!" he whined, waving with his tire for another beer. Glancing sideways, Axlerod could see the whiner was a park ranger or something, given his Department of the Interior insignia on his side. "Why won't the secretary believe me?" he asked no one in particular. "I can't stand another minute in Death Valley! Hey! Bartender! Did I not ask for a drink already? Yes I did, so where's my drink?" he practically sobbed, and Miles rolled his eyes.

"Um… you maybe want to go back to this Death Valley of yours? Some of us are trying to eat." Axlerod stated bluntly.

"Go back?" the ranger asked, sticking out his tongue in disgust. "But that's why I'm here in the first place! I don't WANT to work in Death Valley anymore! It's too hot… yes it is!" The SUV seemed to shrivel up and wilt as he stated this. "I've been wasting my vacation time trying to petition for a reassignment but… he wouldn't listen! I mean what does that stuffy old secretary know anyway? It was just one lousy party! Was that so wrong? No! It wasn't!" This annoying park ranger had a habit of answering his own questions, which Miles found bewildering and irritating.

"Ugh, what are you talking about?" Miles asked, growing annoyed. The SUV finally got his Carona slid down to him, the bartender not wanting to go anywhere near him apparently.

Sighing, the SUV raised his eyes to look at Miles for the first time. "I was once the superintendent… superintendent of Piston Peak National Park, OK?" the SUV asked. "Cad Spinner" he offered his tire in greeting, but then seemed to brighten up at who was before him. "Hey wait! I KNOW YOU! You're Miles Axlerod, former oil billionaire! I once invited you to one of my parties but you turned me down! Hey wait! Aren't you supposed to be in pris-"

But Axlerod snapped a tire over Cad's mouth, shushing him. "Shhhh! No! I'm not! You're mistaken!" he hissed.

"But are you sure?" Cad asked in a muffled voice as he struggled to back up without running into anyone. "Cause like why did you just shush me and act like you're all…"

"Shut up!" Miles hissed. "Listen you bloody idiot! If you say another word… I'll… I'll go right to this secretary of yours and tell him to extend your tenure in Death Valley for life, got it?"

This seemed to shut Cad up, his lips pursing as Axlerod finally removed his tire from the park ranger's mouth. "Good! Now listen to me! I'm gonna turn… and drive on outta here… OK? And you're gonna forget you ever saw me, if you want me to be quiet, got it? I got paroled, OK?"

Cad gave him a skeptical look here. Damn… this wasn't working! "Hey wait just a Ripslinging moment! YOU tell MY boss to extend MY tenure? I don't think so! I should be the one reporting YOU!"

"Keep your voice down!" Miles urged, but already several patrons were turning towards him. "OK… we're going on a little trip." He drove into Cad now, beginning to push him towards the back of the bar.

"Hey! Wait! What are you doing?" Cad asked, starting to panic. "You can't just… get off me!" he ordered, trying to shake Miles off, but Miles persisted, and pushed himself against the SUV as he started to resist. Miles had no idea what he was doing, but stopped short in his tracks as he saw a very familiar purple Jaguar heading towards him from the rear entrance of the bar.

"Blimey!" Miles shouted, even as Cad tried to shout over him.

"How DARE you! Do you know who I am? Er… used to be?"

But Miles didn't respond as Holley Shiftwell gave him a look that said "you're finished." He burned rubber as he threw his tires into reverse, and Holley readied her taser. But Cad fortunately (or unfortunately for him) moved right in the way to continue shouting at Miles before he felt a sharp electric jolt strike his trunk and he convulsed from the taser's shock. It was now the alcohol Cad had been downing for the past while caused his brain to go into a complete panic upon feeling electricity surging through him, and he took off towards the front of the restaurant as Miles moved to follow suit, the Range Rover purposely knocking into a few patrons to cause them to back up angrily towards him and ruin Holley's next shot.

But just as he neared the front entrance, a very familiar silver Aston Martin burst through double doors and smirked. "Axlerod!" Finn McMissile yelled, readying what looked like a gun.

But fortunately, the drunk and panicking Cad intervened again, swerving in front of Finn who was forced to lower his weapon to avoid harming an innocent as Cad nearly rammed him head on. Backing up just in time, this allowed Miles to follow Cad right out the front door as the park ranger drove into the street, screaming "THEY'RE ALL CRAZY!"

Axlerod needed no second hint. He stayed behind Cad as he swerved in and out of traffic, hearing Finn gun his engine behind him and start to follow after him. Axlerood zoomed through the streets, staying even with Cad to use the unwitting park ranger as a shield. As Cad took a left turn heading towards the National Mall, Miles did the same, pushing his engine as fast as it would go to try and stay ahead of Finn, whom he knew to be extremely fast. In his rearview mirrors he could see the spy car barreling after him, weaving in and out of traffic to try and line up a shot. He had less cover from Cad here, who panicked and dove to the left to avoid an SUV just ahead of him. Still, Miles tried to use as much civilian cover as he could.

Up ahead, the Range Rover could see the National Mall, and he gunned it, heading right for the National Gallery of Art. There was cover indoors… and lots of cars. He could lay low inside and try and escape through the back entrance or one of the side doors. Feeling his jalopy engine about to give out on him, he gave it all he had and pushed himself toward the front doors, practically flying through them and heading right for the metal detectors up front, which he passed with no problem, as he wasn't carrying any weapons. Panting, the Range Rover headed for the bathroom to take care of his overtaxed engine and began looking for alternative ways to exit the building. Fortunately for him, the Gallery of Art was one of the bigger Smithsonian museums, and had plenty of entrances and exits.

Outside, Finn screeched to a halt as Holley touched down next to him, retracting her wings and sighing. "Blast! He's gone into the Gallery of Art! Ugh! That's a logistical nightmare in there! Too many exits to cover!"

"I know!" Finn replied, thinking this over. "Perhaps we should've brought more backup. I didn't expect him to escape the restaurant so easily. Good work on tracking his flight out here, by the way, Ms. Shiftwell. Now we just have to corner that wily Rover!"

"If we go in there we'll lose him easily. Should we alert building security?" Holley asked.

"Maybe… but I'm not sure they'd be able to handle Axlerod. The best we can do is contact the Metropolitan Police and get them to surround the building." Finn stated.

"If he's smart, which he is, he'll be long gone by the time they close off all entrances though." Holley replied.

"I know, but it's our only chance, Ms. Shiftwell! There's just too many nooks and crannies in there for him to hide if we went in ourselves. We'll have to see if we can trap him instead."

"If only I'd been able to get a tracker on him before he took off…" Holley groaned.

"It's all right, Ms. Shiftwell! We'll get him yet! I just hope he's not planning anything here in the capital of the United States. By the way, who was that SUV he was talking to in the restaurant?" Finn asked.

"VIN number identified him as Cad Spinner, a park ranger for the US Department of the Interior. No known connection to Sir Axlerod though." Holley replied.

"Hm… all right… well let's go about this, then! But I DON'T want the Americans flying into a panic over this! They could ruin the whole operation if they try and take him down on their own! We're gonna have to hope they cooperate!" Finn cautioned.

"Yes well… we'll do the best we can." Holley said, opening up a channel to the Metropolitan Police.

* * *

In her office at the NTSB on L'Enfant Plaza, Melina sighed she waited for her boss to drop by and discuss her final report. She was pretty bored, and eager to start her vacation, but there was nothing she could do until he showed up. Greg had teased her this morning over the fact that she'd taken such a high-class flight with her new "boyfriend", but she didn't mind the teasing. Brightening up as her boss entered, she let the anticipation for the end of her day start to build.

"Great work on the SumatraAir case, Markham. Too bad the Indonesians didn't agree, but I think you nailed it."

"Oh, thanks you, sir!" she responded, relieved. "So um… you know how I have some vacation time accrued? I'd like to make use of that this week if I could."

Her boss's face fell a bit here, and Melina felt her sense of anticipation evaporating. "Ah well… turns out we had a big 747 run into some rudder trouble up in Anchorage… it didn't receive a lot of media coverage, but… could you maybe work ONE more case before your break?"

Melina's face fell too at this point, and she looked down. "Don't you have… others who can cover for it?" she asked hopefully.

"Well most of them are off investigating the Queens disaster in New York. You know, the Airbus that crashed into a Queens suburb shortly after takeoff?"

"I… heard of that one, yes." She muttered. Sighing, she looked up. "OK… one more case… but then I get my vacation, deal?"

"Deal!" her boss responded heartily. "Sorry again… it's just…"

"No, no, don't worry about it. We're stretched a little thin right now; I understand. I'll go make the skies safer." She stated gamely.

"Great! Well then, enjoy your time in Alaska!" Her boss reversed and continued driving down the hallway now.

Sighing a third time, Melina looked down at her final report on the SumatraAir flight, and wondered if Miles wouldn't mind a little diversionary trip up to Alaska.

* * *

As it was, Axlerod had taken care of his leaking engine in the restroom, and was back out now, driving swiftly through the halls of the Gallery of Art, as he knew he only had a short amount of time before he could escape this building. He had swiped a map from the information desk and had decided to take the tunnel over to the east building, where he'd exit quietly onto the streets and head towards Melina's office. He no longer felt as if he could come clean with her… not when his pursuers were so close!

Pulling onto the moving driveway, Miles drove through the tunnel heading for the east wing, wasting no time in making a beeline for the exit he wanted. So far there were no signs he'd been followed in, and no signs of security being on alert. Still, he wasn't going to take any chances. A quick dash-in and dash-out to stay one step ahead of those blasted spies! It almost felt like he was traveling through light speed, as the way the lights ran overhead gave the impression of being in space in the tunnel steel tunnel.

Seeing the east wing up ahead and the doors he wanted, Miles accelerated, even as police sirens could be heard in the distance. Take no chances! Blowing out the door, he tried to act inconspicuous as he drove out of the gallery's east wing and started heading south in the general direction of L'Enfant Plaza. He could see Melina early and tell her the bad news: that remaining in the city was no longer possible for him.

* * *

Melina was finishing up her pre-investigation briefing for the day as she gathered what information she could from the reports they had on hand in Anchorage. Seemed that Dusty Crophopper, the world famous racer, was a key witness in this one. Driving slowly back to her office, she figured she'd go home, see Miles, and break the bad news to him. But she was surprised to see the Range Rover already there, waiting for her outside her office. "Miles!" she exclaimed happily, driving over to him now. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh… just wanted to drop by real quick before… uh… before…" he paused here, trying to gather up the courage to tell her.

"Miles is everything OK?" Melina asked, concerned.

"No! But uh… I… I need to tell you that I probably can't stay in DC much longer." He finally managed to get out.

"Oh… well that's a coincidence, because it turns out my vacation got canceled… I have to leave for Alaska to investigate a near miss up in Anchorage." She relayed to him.

"Really? Oh that's great! Then let's go right now!" he urged.

"You… can come with me?" she asked, surprised at how sudden this was.

"Of course! I just can't stay HERE for… um… well it turns out one of my problems is here too." He said cryptically.

"Oh… I see. Well great then, we can travel together! That is… if you're up for going to Alaska."

"I don't mind! Anything to get away from here!" he admitted.

"Well all right then… let me just gather my things and we'll head to the airport." She suggested.

"Capital! Well I'll be waiting for you!" He hesitated here, knowing his old passport was probably hot by this point. Good thing he'd had several backups made but… he'd have to be extremely careful… wait a minute! There was still a way! "Say Melina!" Miles called as she began to head for her office. "How would you like to fly a private charter, my treat?" he asked, grinning.

Melina blinked as she turned to look at him. "Private charter? You're going to charter a plane?"

"Sure! This'll give us some privacy on the way up, and we can enjoy a nice dinner, and just kick back and relax. What do you say?" he asked again.

"Well… Miles that actually sounds quite romantic. All right… but are you sure everything's OK? You're acting kind of… odd." She noted here.

"Haha! Yes of course! I'm just uh… eager to get going! I wanted to surprise you with that charter idea!" he quickly responded.

"Well I like it. See you in a few." She told him as she headed into her office to collect what she'd need.


	9. Chapter 9: Still I Fly

**Author's Note:** Man I loved writing this chapter! Regarding Blackthorn, this is a prelude to my next fic that I'm already planning out, and yes, it's going to be a Planes fic! :D Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to you! My fellow awesome fans of the Cars and Planes world! I love this fandom, and I love that you love it with me! We're giving it all we've got, and still we fly! Keep on flying, my fellow fans! :)

**Back to the Story**

The small executive jet Axlerod had chartered for their flight was approaching Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport on its final descent. The sun was starting to set, and Miles was just finishing up his dinner with Melina on their private flight. The other investigators were of course being flown free of charge by their government just a few miles behind Axlerod's Gulfstream.

"I'm sorry I'm gonna have to make you wait through another investigation, Miles." Melina apologized as she concluded her meal.

"Oh it's… fine… really it is." Miles told her, giving her a sincere look. "I'll find a way to occupy myself… as always."

"Well this trip's gotten off to a good start so far… love the private jet, Miles." Melina told him, backing up from the table now.

"I'm glad you do. I really wanted to enjoy your company before you need to get back to work. Only the best for you." Miles declared.

"Well it was sweet. So I guess we're landing soon, and I'm going to need to conduct my preliminary interviews." Melina commented.

"So long as you promise not to fall for the first Range Rover you interview as your star witness." Miles joked, winking at her here.

"Haha! No, never. I dragged you along, and I dance with the one who brought me." She stated resolutely.

"Capital! Well let's get ready for landing, then!" Heading towards a seat to clamp in, he let the small cabin crew clear the table and secure the cabin for landing.

Outside, in the growing darkness of Anchorage's airport, Dusty Crophopper was still practicing his airport fire suppression techniques. He was getting better with his timing, and was earning higher grades each time. Blade Ranger was still supervising as Dusty unleashed his watery payload over the top of the training site, the airport simulating a burning plane for tonight's training.

While the training continued, he also had to stick around because he knew he'd be interviewed by the NTSB investigators who were flying up to Anchorage from DC to look into the near miss of Northwest 85.

Dusty was looking forward to calling his friends in Propwash Junction tomorrow. He wanted to keep them apprised of his progress, and Skipper Riley was working on a special side project for him as well.

Pulling up after his attack run, Dusty could see an approaching Gulfstream in the failing light. "Hey Blade! How was that?" Dusty asked his mentor.

"Looking good, champ! Looked fine to me!" was the chopper's response.

"Great! I see a small plane incoming. Think that's the investigators?" Dusty asked now.

"Probably! Might wanna come in now anyway… daylight's fading fast." Blade pointed out.

"Will do!" Dusty responded, circling around to make his landing now after receiving clearance. As the Gulfstream touched down on another runway, Dusty and Blade were informed by the tower that this flight was indeed carrying the lead NTSB investigator. Making their way over to the taxiing jet, Dusty briefly wondered why a government official would be flying in a private charter plane, but figured he'd find out soon enough.

As the Gulfstream rolled to a stop and its ramp extended downward, Dusty and Blade glimpsed Melina as she was the first to deplane and drive down the ramp towards them, followed shortly after by Miles. Dusty narrowed his eyes, as he thought he recognized the green Range Rover, but couldn't be certain from this distance.

Melina knew Dusty though from the start, and approached him in the dusk. "Hello there, Mr. Crophopper! I'm Melina Markham, lead investigator on this case for the NTSB. I heard you were a major factor in helping Northwest 85 land."

"Well I don't know about MAJOR factor." Dusty replied humbly, scuffing the ground a bit with his wheels. "The crew were the real heroes in landing safely."

"Yes, well we'll be talking to them too, as well as examining the physical evidence, since the plane itself survived and is sitting on the tarmac. Let's head over to one of the hangers and begin the questioning." Melina suggested, driving past the racer now and heading for the hangers.

Blade noticed Miles staring at him, which made the helicopter uncomfortable. "What?" Blade asked, giving Miles a confused look.

"Are you… no way! You're… Blazin' Blade Ranger, aren't you?" Miles asked, an incredulous look passing over his features.

"Uhh… why?" Blade asked, caught off guard and not outright denying it.

"Cause like, you were SO AWESOME in CHoPs! I was a total fan of you growing up! Can I get your autograph, pleeeeeease?" Miles asked in a giddy fashion, suddenly turning into a stuttering fancar.

"Hoho! You have a fan, Blade!" Dusty exclaimed as he overheard the conversation.

"You ARE Blazin' Blade!" Miles exclaimed happily upon hearing Dusty's words.

"Ugggh jeez." Blade sighed, rolling his eyes. "I don't uh… I don't really go by that name anymore, got it?" the chopper asked, shooting a dark stare at Miles.

"But still… autograph?" Miles asked hopefully.

"Heheh, have fun, Blade!" Dusty called, following after Melina now. "May as well give him what he wants!"

"Ugh! Fine! Just this once!" Blade reluctantly acquiesced.

"Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Miles rattled off, quickly driving back up the ramp and driving back down with a plate from the Gulfstream for Blade to sign.

"Uhhh… this all you got?" Blade asked, confused.

"Unfortunately yes, but I will NEVER wash this plate for as long as I live!" the eager Range Rover promised.

"Riiight." Blade responded with some sarcasm, and hesitantly pressed his tire down onto the plate, signing a BBR on top of it.

"Yes! I've got Blazin' Blade Ranger's signature! Thank you once again, Blazin-"

"Enough with the 'Blazin' Blade' all right? It's just Blade now, OK?" Blade snapped.

"Oh… sorry! Blade it is then! Thanks! I'm gonna go store this and catch up with Ms. Markham! Ciao!" Miles sped back up the ramp, leaving Blade to sigh in disgust and roll himself towards the hanger to answer some questions.

* * *

The next day, the investigation continued as Melina proceeded with the interviews and Miles floated around the airport, sometimes visiting the Daimler and other times going off and doing his own thing. The private charter had allowed him to fly out of DC undetected, and he felt that at the very least, he'd earned some breathing space.

As for Dusty, his training continued, but he had a very important call to make back home to Propwash Junction, so about midday, he paused to get that taken care of. Calling in to Propwash Junction's long-distance radio, Dusty made sure to do so at the appointed time. "Gooooood afternoon, Propwash Junction! This is Dusty Crophopper calling long-distance from Anchorage! Come in Propwash!"

"Heya Dusty!" the voice on the other end belonged to his new boss, Mayday the fire truck.

"Mayday! Hi, boss! How are things there?" Dusty asked, brightening upon hearing his old friend.

"Oh just fine here! We're still cleaning up from the corn festival. How's your training thing going? Learning lots of new stuff?" Mayday asked.

"Oh yeah! I'm learning all about how to support ground trucks like you in battling airport fires! That's something I couldn't learn at Piston Peak, and the training's been great! I'm having a good time, but I miss everyone too! How's everyone been keeping?"

"Hi Dusty!" came the shouts of all the denizens of Propwash Junction from behind Mayday.

"Hi guys!" Dusty responded, glad to hear the sound of their voices.

"Well I'm glad to hear it's going well, Dusty. Skipper said he's got something for you, the thing you asked him to find out." Mayday relayed.

"Oh, great!" Dusty replied, anticipation building, both at hearing Skipper again and for the information he had.

"Hi Dusty." Came Skipper's voice.

"Hey Skip! Did you find what I asked you to look for?" Dusty asked eagerly.

"Yep! Sure did! Simon Blackthorn, District Attorney of the Western Circuit Court. Currently resides in LA, and works up and down the West Coast of the United States." Skipper read off his findings to the racer-turned-firefighter, but Dusty could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"Wait, wait, wait! District attorney? As in… he's a prosecutor?" Dusty asked incredulously.

"Uh-huh… that's what it says." Skipper replied.

"But… wait are you SURE you got the right Simon Blackthorn?" Dusty asked now.

"He's the only one I could find… flashy car. Maserati, right?" Skipper asked.

Dusty's mood sank like a stone in water. A Maserati… that was him all right… "I… I can't believe this! He would never… NEVER become a prosecutor!" the plane protested, his voice cracking. "I just… I don't understand! Why would he…?" Dusty trailed off here, leaving Skipper worried.

"Uhh… Dusty? Are you OK?" he asked. "What's wrong? Who's this Blackthorn fellow anyway?"

"He's just… he's just… he's no one." Dusty lied, though Skipper clearly caught on. "I gotta go…" Dusty said quickly, voice wavering as he backed away from the microphone. "Thanks, Skip."

"Dusty? Dusty?" Skipper called, growing concerned. "Dusty?"

But Dusty had rolled away now, tears in his eyes, confusion wracking his mind. "Why would he…? How could he?" The plane was clearly hurt by the revelation, but there was a determination as well… a determination to see Blackthorn once again and see what he was like now… what kind of car he'd become.

Rolling out of the hanger, Dusty gazed down at the black tarmac, blinking away the tears. Sniffling, his face hardened, and he kept moving forward, determined to throw himself back into his training.

* * *

The day had gone relatively well for Melina. She'd recovered the power control module from Captain Hanson's tail. The cast metal housing had broken, separating the end of the housing from the rest of the module, which was very unusual. Melina had never seen this before, and she could tell it could take some time in determining just what had caused the housing to break. Almost all power control module problems developed with the moving pistons inside the module, but never with the housing. The end breaking off meant that there was no stopping the pistons from moving out of the module itself, leaving Hanson's rudder in the hard over position. Determining what had caused the housing to break was the next step.

As night fell on their first full day in Alaska, the investigators had made good progress, which was good news for Melina. She wanted to do a good job, but wanted to wrap this one up in time too.

Finishing up her investigation for the day, she noted Miles give a yawn and smile over at her. "Busy day, huh?"

"All part of the job. Oh! You know I remembered I never answered one of your questions to me back in Indonesia…" Melina stated.

"And that question is?" Miles asked curiously.

"Whether or not there's a Mr. Markham. And well… there is…" Melina replied slowly, her face falling here.

"Oh… there… is?" Miles asked, shocked. "Wait… there's a Mr. Markham? Then how… why…?" He seemed absolutely crestfallen, a look of anguish on his face here, but Melina was smiling, which only confused him further.

"He's my father!" she declared now, breaking out into a laugh to see the contortion on his face as he appeared relieved, confused, and tearful all at the same time. "Haha! The look on your face, Miles! You looked like your engine was about to burst into flames. Haha! Sorry… I couldn't resist…" she chuckled, trying to control her laughter.

"OK THAT was… cruel!" he shouted. "Melina you almost broke my heart, you know that? I was starting to panic. I was like MR. Markham? You'd better be divorced!"

She continued laughing, the widest of smiles on her face. "I'm sorry again, Miles. I just had to see the look on your face though. It just proves to me you really do like me… and that this isn't just a temporary thing for you."

"Well… uhh… yeah… of course it is." He replied modestly here. "I wouldn't want to come out to Alaska with you if it was just a… thing after all. But you got me. Guess I tipped my tire in your favor, there."

"Yes… you certainly did… and it's sweet. You really do care about me. Well… why don't we get some dinner and then some shuteye?" she suggested.

"Of course… MS. Markham." Miles smirked at her here, but the look in his eyes, as he gazed at her, was simply priceless to Melina. There was genuine love there, and affection. Miles loved her, and she could see it plain as day. He was looking at her as if he hadn't seen her in a very long time, and it warmed her inside. His pain was fading… it was still there of course, deep within his eyes… but gradually, day by day, it was fading. If she could just get him to fully open up to her… she could banish that pain: she was sure of it.

* * *

As night fell over Anchorage, Miles was having trouble drifting off to sleep. Snorting a bit, he sighed. Melina was by his side, and soundly asleep, but the Range Rover's thoughts were running a mile a minute. He was feeling better… but he still knew he had to come clean with Melina at some point. If not now, when? But the truth… the truth was… painful.

Looking out to the airport, he could see Dusty Crophopper out there, looking up at the stars. Looking over at Melina, Miles rolled forward, driving over to Dusty now. "Can't sleep?" he asked. Dusty glanced in Axlerod's direction.

"Yeah… just thinking about things." Dusty confessed.

"Yeah… me too." Miles agreed. "What's on your mind?"

"Just… an old friend of mine that I haven't seen in well… years. And now… I learned he's doing something I NEVER thought he'd be doing. It kind of… well no not kind of… it definitely hurts." Dusty said sadly here.

"Oh… that uh… that doesn't sound good." Miles stated.

"Yeah well… it's something I need to find the answer to… and I'm not going to stop until I get it. What's on your mind?" Dusty asked.

"Um… I'm… I'm caught in a jam. See I… I did things in my past that… landed me in trouble in the present… and I wanted revenge… for everything going wrong but… then… then I met this car… this amazing car… and I feel… I feel warm… pleasant… wanted… I feel happy. My life was so empty before… but with her I feel… I'm feeling complete… but she doesn't even know who I am… I can't tell her because… if she found out… she would hate me. And I wouldn't be able to be with her. So I'm stuck… I'm stuck lying to her… and living in this limbo that will shatter one of these days. I close my eyes to pretend like it will never happen… but it will… and I'm just a fool… a broken-down old foolish lemon." He sighed, looking off to the side now as Dusty studied him.

"Do you love this car? And I don't mean if you're infatuated with her… do you LOVE her? Truly and deeply? Would you be willing to sacrifice yourself for her?" Dusty asked here.

"Sacrifice… myself?" Miles asked, confused.

"If it meant she could be happy… would you give up your own happiness for her?" Dusty pressed.

Axlerod had never given this thought. He'd only thought about how she made him feel… not how he made her feel. Would he give himself up for her? To make her happy? "I…" Miles began here, thinking about that. "I don't know." He confessed. "She's… she makes me feel complete… filling holes I never thought would be filled… if it meant… she'd be happy, I owe her that much I suppose. I don't know. I haven't thought about it before."

"Well… consider this. Firefighters risk their lives for people they don't even know. I learned that from the most amazing helicopter there is. He showed me what it meant to be selfless… to risk my life for total strangers. I used to be a hotshot racer… focused on winning my next trophy, and moving on to the next race. And I thought I knew better than anyone else… I arrogantly pushed myself and caused an accident one night… an accident that put others in danger. Even though I felt bad… I learned nothing from it. I still just felt obligated to make up for it… not because I felt I had done wrong, but because I felt I needed to. And I was an idiot. I completely disobeyed multiple orders from someone who was only trying to show me what it took to do what I had come to him to do. And despite this… despite me throwing that back in his face and not listening to him… he never gave me up on me. He put himself in danger MULTIPLE times to save me, and he showed me what it meant to be selfless. And now, I consider him one of my greatest mentors, and truest friends. He could've just let me die… and why not? I acted like an arrogant jerk… he had every right to abandon me, and didn't. But he never gave up on me… and when he got badly hurt protecting me… I just… I felt so guilty." Dusty sniffed here.

"I felt terrible. Here was someone I didn't even know that well risking his own LIFE to save mine… I felt like I didn't deserve that… and I felt so stupid for how I'd acted. Here I was worried about never being able to race again, and here he was hurting himself to protect me. It made me seem so… petty and stupid. I wanted to make up for that. I came to him to become a firefighter… but until then I never actually knew what that meant. I MADE that choice because I could've seriously hurt my friends… but honestly, I was more worried about a stupid festival being reopened then I was about actually helping my community out. After that, I understood what it meant to be a firefighter. To give myself up for others I barely knew. Our situations aren't the same… but in a way they are." The plane explained here.

"Whereas you're in love with someone but you're scarred by your past, I hurt others and didn't see it until I truly understood what it meant to be selfless. If you can be selfless for this car you love… then your answer on what to do is right in front of you. Can you be selfless for others, or is your revenge truly more important? What's the most important thing to you right now? Take a good look at your life. Has this car you like ever given herself up for you… or done something selfless for you?" Dusty asked.

It was like a bomb had been dropped in front of Miles… he was crying, but he didn't even realize it. He'd started crying just listening to Dusty's story, and here he was now. "Have you… ever been in love?" Miles asked here in a sad tone.

"Yes…" Dusty responded simply. "I fell in love during my Wings Around the Globe race. And… I still am in love. I just… haven't seen her recently. We had… kind of a falling out but… I've never forgotten her." The racer informed the Range Rover as he gazed off into the distance. "But getting back to you… has she ever done anything selfless for you?"

"Yes…" Miles said between sobs. "She's offered to help me multiple times… and I… I can't open up to her… I'm afraid… I'm a coward…" he whimpered, barely audible as Dusty's face fell.

"I understand, Axlerod… really I do." Dusty played his gamble, and it worked.

"No… you don't understand… I… I…" he froze as he realized he'd just responded to Axlerod. He felt Dusty's wing on top of him now, the plane just gently touching him to try and offer him some comfort.

"But I do." Dusty said softly.

"Why haven't you called the authorities?" Axlerod asked.

"Because I wanted to see if I was right or not… and I don't sense any hostility in you. I think you're hurt… you're hurt a lot by what you did. And if there's one thing I learned during my big race… it's that we all need friends." Dusty responded softly.

"What do I do? I wish I could go back in time… I just want to be with her… I wish I could take back what I did at the World Grand Prix and Allinol and… all of it!" he slammed his tire into the ground angrily as he continued sobbing. "Why couldn't I have met her BEFORE all that?"

"Well as a great helicopter once told me… life doesn't always go the way you expect it. I'll even go one further than that. Real greatness is what you choose to do with your life when it seems its most dire. What kind of car will be right NOW Axlerod? Who will you choose to be?" Dusty asked, comfortingly keeping his wing on top of Miles.

Miles said nothing, only sinking low to the ground as he cried his eyes out, Dusty not lifting his wing but just staying there and letting him cry. "It's OK… just cry." Dusty said gently. And Miles did. He shuddered and gave vent to his emotions, sobbing under the plane's wing. Dusty let him do so, watching him as the Range Rover cried. He even started leaking oil, and though Dusty initially tried to move, he eventually just stayed there, trying to be supportive, and standing in the pool of oil with Axlerod. "If you really love her… then you HAVE to do the right thing. She's willing to help you… and I think you really do love her."

"I do… I do… I do…" Miles panted, trying to calm himself down. "I've been… such an idiot…"

"I know EXACTLY how you feel." Dusty responded. "But what you choose to do now with your life is what matters."

"But I could go back to prison…" Miles stammered. "I would never… never see her again… and I would lose everything…"

"You wouldn't lose everything." Dusty said reassuringly. "You would get a chance to redeem yourself… and prove you've changed. And even if you DID go back to prison… I would visit you. You wouldn't be alone. I don't want you making this choice alone. You can still fly, Miles. When I realized I might never race again, I thought my life was over… but I still fly. You HAVE to still fly. If she loves you… she'll understand… but the longer you wait, the worse it's going to get. Just keep that in mind."

"I know… I know…" Miles said sadly, breathing heavily. "I know… I'll tell her… I have to tell her… I have to be a better car."

"And you will be… I believe you can do it. Now… are you OK?" Dusty asked sympathetically.

"I… I don't know." Miles confessed. "I've never been in this situation before…"

"It's new for everyone who goes through it. You can run from it, or you can face it. And right now you're facing it… don't turn away. You aren't facing it alone."

"I wish… I wish I'd known you before Allinol. I… I've been such a fool." Miles reiterated glumly.

"Don't think about what could've been… think about what can be." Dusty assured him. "Don't make me regret NOT reporting you, OK? I believe in you, Miles. I believe you can change."

"I won't make you regret it… I promise…" Miles whispered slowly.

"Good. Now… do you think you can sleep?" Dusty's wing was still on top of the Rover. He hadn't moved it once.

"I'll try… thank you. I never thought I'd get good advice from a plane but… thank you, Dusty. If I can ever repay you…"

"You can repay me by showing me you've learned from your mistakes. Do the right thing, Miles."

"I'll-I'll try." Miles stuttered.

"No… you will. Say it." Dusty urged, giving him an encouraging smile.

"I… I will." Miles gulped, swallowing his pride and his pain and trying to deal with the swirling emotions raging through him.

"Good… if you need to talk, wake me up. But until the morning, I hope you can sleep at least a little better tonight. You can do this, OK?"

"Why do you believe in me? You know who I am after all…" Miles stated, looking up at him.

"Because I don't see any reason why you don't deserve a chance to change. I really can't think of a single reason." Dusty informed him, causing Miles to smile for the first time here.

"Thank you… I suppose you're right. That just made me feel… like I CAN do this."

"And you can." Dusty smiled back. "If you really want to, you can. Now get some sleep. You're a mess." He joked.

A small laugh escaped Axlerod's lips. "Aha! Yes… yes I guess I am. Thank you… for believing in me. I'm glad I met you. You've helped… you really have." Miles told him sincerely.

"Good… well I'll see you tomorrow. Oh and… think about visiting Propwash Junction if you don't find yourself back in jail!" Dusty lifted his wing up at long last and began rolling away.

"I will! Propwash Junction! I'll remember that! Thank you!" Miles called, his eyes drying and his smile still on his face as he began to back up and turn to head back to the hanger, a sense of liberation and elation washing over him, like a cool waterfall on a hot summer's day. He could do this… he could.


	10. Chapter 10: Coming to Terms

Miles snorted, coming awake suddenly. "Huh?" he asked, blinking wearily as he looked around him. What time was it? Where was Melina? Looking to his left, he could see the Daimler was no longer next to him, and a quick scan of the hanger revealed no trace of her at all. Glancing up at the wall clock, the Range Rover could see it was well approaching 10 AM. 10 AM? How could he have slept so late?

Driving out in a hurry, he quickly looked around for Melina, and figured she'd be over where Captain Hanson was still parked. He needed to tell her everything! He needed to come clean with her! But as he drove towards the area he figured she'd be working in, he braked, and slowed to a crawl.

Wait a minute… her words to him about how she hated liars came back to him now. Gulping, he came to a full stop as he thought this out. She was in the middle of an investigation… perhaps springing the fact that he was actually Miles Axlerod on her right now wasn't the best course of action. He would tell of her course… but not now. He could distract her from doing her job… it was too critical a time for her at present.

Sighing, Miles figured he'd better go and talk to Dusty again. Turning away from his destination, he set a course for where he could see Dusty Crophopper off in the distance, conducting dives in a series of practice runs as part of his training.

Driving up to the practice area, he could see Blade Ranger keeping a close eye on his protégé as Dusty performed his dives, shouting orders to him via his radio every so often to give the former crop duster pointers. Noticing the approaching Range Rover, Blade backed away a bit. "Oh, you again? What do you want? If it's another autograph then no! I only do one per vehicle!" the helicopter protested.

"Good to know, but no! Actually, I need to speak with Dusty! Can he take a bit of a break?" Miles asked.

"What, you want his autograph too?" Blade snapped.

"No! It's… we talked last night, OK? He gave me some good advice, and I need to ask him about something else." Miles insisted.

"Huh?" Blade asked, confused.

"It's OK, Blade! I can take a break after this run." Dusty radioed in.

"Yeah, sure, why not? You're lookin' good out there anyway, champ." Blade responded with a hint of pride in his tones.

Dusty conducted his run perfectly, unleashing his payload over the burning section of the tarmac and buzzing over the tops of Blade and Miles. "Coming in for my landing." Dusty radioed, and received permission from the tower to do so, sweeping in and coming to a halt as he idled his engine and rolled on over to the two. "Hey Miles! How'd you sleep?" Dusty asked, giving him a knowing look.

"Yes, good morning, Dusty. Um… better than I wanted to." Miles confessed. "I overslept."

"That's fine. Nothing wrong with taking it slow every so often. So… how'd it go?" he asked eagerly.

"Um… I… didn't tell her." Miles admitted now, causing Dusty to stop his engine and give him a concerned look. "I needed to ask your advice on something actually."

"Uh, OK! Shoot!" Dusty stated.

"So… the car I like… the one I was going to confess everything to…" Miles began, taking a bit of a drive now as Dusty rolled to follow him.

"Uh huh." Dusty nodded.

"She… hates… lies. See most of her family was killed in an accident that had a lot of lies and misinformation swirling around it. How… how should I approach this? I mean… I'm afraid I shot myself in the tires here with this one…" Miles outlined.

"Ahhh… she hates lies. Well, Miles… who doesn't hate being lied to? Now don't get me wrong… I understand that maybe she has a stronger aversion to it than your average car, and that's fine. But that's the test of a bond of friendship. I was tested in such a fashion during my big race." Dusty explained.

"You were?" Miles asked incredulously.

"Yep… twice in fact. Remember that racer I mentioned I have a crush on? Well she deceived me and nearly got me killed… but the biggest blow of all was learning my mentor… the plane I respected more than anyone at that point… had lied to me about his service record. He trained me… but I accidentally found out that he'd only flown one actual combat mission… Imagine my surprise when I found that out!" Dusty exclaimed, causing Miles's face to fall here.

"Oh I… I see…" the British Range Rover stated glumly.

"But… I forgave him. And I forgave her as well. They both helped me out… despite me feeling alone… used… betrayed… I just couldn't bring myself to hate them. I had gone through so much with them already… especially with my trainer. I could tell he had a heart of gold though… he just needed a strong friendship to help him overcome his own inner doubts and guilt. And you know what he confessed to me at the end of my race?" Dusty asked here.

"No… what?" Miles replied.

"He said that he learned more from me than I'll ever learn from him. To me, that was beautiful. It showed our friendship was stronger than any lie he ever told me, and it also showed that he had grown because of it as well. It was a learning experience for him. So long as you know what you did was wrong, and learn from it, how can a true friend hold it against you?" Dusty posed.

"Well… yes but… confessing that's… that's harder… what if she never forgives me?" he asked softly. "My lie's a pretty big one…"

"Yeah well… so was Skipper's. And so was Ishani's. Confessing you lied is NEVER easy, Miles. You deceived someone… but the ability to confess shows you DO feel guilty about it… and that you're honest in asking for the other's forgiveness. You have to do it at some point if you care."

"I… I know!" Miles sighed here, looking down. "Was uh… Ishani the name of the racer you have the crush on?" he looked over at Dusty here.

"Yeah heheh… yeah it is. The most aerodynamic racer in Air Sports Illustrated!" he commented, smiling here.

"Heh… wonder what she'd think of you now." Miles mused aloud.

"Well… knowing her, she'd probably be proud." Dusty replied. "So… what do you have to do?"

"Um… confess to her…"

"Yeeees." Dusty drew out the word for emphasis. "And if she really cares about you, she'll forgive you. I know she will. Now… have I answered your question?" the firefighter asked.

"You… have, yes. I wish… I just wish I had your confidence Dusty. You seem so perky and nice and determined."

"So do you, in all honesty." Dusty responded.

"I… do?" Miles stopped here, blinking.

"Sure! Just think back to how confident and kind you were on TV during the World Grand Prix. Muster up that same confident Miles and you'll be able to do this!"

"Yes well… uh… most of that was deception." Miles confessed.

"Just an extension of your normal personality though." Dusty pointed out.

"Heh… yes I… guess it was." Miles said quietly.

"I didn't say it would be easy… but you need to start somewhere… and you already started with me." Dusty reminded him.

"Not by choice!" Axlerod quickly responded.

"No… not by choice. But I helped you get that first part out of the way. You CAN do the rest. Go ahead… say it." Dusty offered him an encouraging smile again.

"I… CAN do it…" Miles repeated.

"There you go. Just repeat that to yourself and think about what you need to do. The longer you wait…"

"The worse it'll get…" Miles sighed again. "I-I know."

"Good! You can do it, Miles!" Dusty said encouragingly.

"I hope so… um… I was thinking of maybe waiting until after her investigation is over though… she's got a lot on her mind right now and well… I don't want to burden her." Miles suggested.

"That's very considerate of you, but don't let the delay cause your fear to win, OK? Stay focused." Dusty cautioned.

"I will… I won't forget that I need to tell her. Thanks again, Dusty. You really… helped me out." Axlerod told him sincerely.

"Hey no problem. We all need help and support sometimes! Well! Catch you later! Make sure you say goodbye before leaving!" Dusty called, rolling back over to Blade now.

"Will do! Thank you!" Miles shouted in reply, and turned to drive back to Melina.

* * *

The investigation continued throughout the day. Various tests were run on the housing of the power control module, but no clear sign of why it had broken in the first place could be found. There was no "smoking gun" so to speak, and Melina was growing frustrated with the lack of progress.

Miles stood by her all day, trying to reassure her at the low points, but it finally reached the point where Melina finally gave an exasperated sigh. "All right! We've tried every test we could think of to determine why this bloody part broke, and nothing! It's impossible to determine because of the way it broke, and the fact it's well… already broken!"

"Hey…" Miles said softly, rolling up to her. "Um… you'll get there eventually. What about Captain Hanson's history? You mentioned earlier he was one of the first 747s to be delivered to Northwest. He was put through vigorous high-speed tests! Maybe that caused unnecessary stress! Maybe that's what caused the part to eventually break?"

Melina considered this a moment, looking off to the side. "Yes… I suppose so. I considered it myself… but no way to bloody prove it!" she complained.

"Hey… I'm sure you will eventually… and even if you don't… is there anything you can think of to make sure this NEVER happens again?" Miles asked, trying to encourage her.

"I guess so…" Melina said dejectedly.

"Aww… come on! The Melina Markham I know wouldn't quit so easily! Come on, Melina! Think! How can you prevent this accident from occurring again?" he urged.

"Well… let's see…" Melina stated thoughtfully, studying the schematics.

"Come on! I know my Daimler can make the skies safe again! Let's work out a solution!" Miles declared enthusiastically.

"Huh… well actually… I think there might be a way…" Melina perked up here.

"Go on! Do it!" Miles practically cheered.

"OK so it's basically a giant cylinder… and the end of it broke off… allowing the piston to slide out and jam the rudder. So… what if we… put two pins inside the cylinder? That would block the piston and prevent it from moving too far and also prevent it from moving up against the housing. That should ensure this kind of accident never happens again!" she exclaimed, getting her spark back here.

"Brilliant! Melina, I think you've done it!" Miles praised, giving her a kiss now as she looked over at him.

"Miles… you've never… been the aggressor in our relationship." She told him now, looking at him affectionately.

"I… haven't? Well uh… I'm just glad to see you happy!" THIS was what Dusty was talking about! Seeing her happy was worth more to him than anything else! He finally understood now! Yes! Every time he did something around her, it was mostly to make her happy! Sacrificing for her! That's how this worked!

"You are?" Melina asked, a bit surprised at this.

"Well of course!" Miles responded, offering her a wide smile. "I think I've found what I've been looking for all my life!" he stated resolutely, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Why Miles… you're positively glowing, you know that?" Melina asked, chuckling as she studied him, pleased with what she was seeing."What you've been looking for your whole life? That's… a pretty heady claim there. So what is it you've been looking for your whole life?" she asked here, though she knew the answer already.

"You… and it's SO clear! It's like a fog lifting after a very dark night! After so much pain and hurt and uncertainty… it's all lifting! I know EXACTLY what I have to do now! Thank you, Melina!" Miles declared, grinning.

"Miles… is your pain actually receding?" she asked here, offering a smile of her own.

"Yes! It is, Melina." He looked at her warmly. "And every bit of that is thanks to you!"

"But I haven't even spoken to you about your past yet…" she trailed off here.

"But you will! You will! And it'll happen soon! I'm gonna come out and tell you everything about me! I promise!" Miles told her adamantly. "Who I am, what sort of car I am, all of it! You'll know everything very soon because I'll share it all with you!"

"Miles… you're… ready to do this?" Melina asked.

"If it means being with you, then yes, I am." He replied, still smiling. "You wanted to help me erase my pain… and I'll trust you with that." He told her seriously.

"Miles… you're like a changed Rover." She commented, finding she was liking this determined and freer side of him.

"A dashingly handsome changed Range Rover!" he joked. "I found out last night what I have to do… and I'm far more comfortable with it now." He informed her. "But for now, you should type up your recommendations and finish up! I want to take you to Taipei for Halloween!" The Range Rover knew the holiday was coming up, and also that Melina had always wanted to go to Taipei. It would certainly be nice to see during Halloween. The city would be even more lit up than usual, festive lights no doubt bedecking buildings for the holiday and streaming throughout the city in a dazzling display.

"Taipei for Halloween? Miles, are you serious?" Melina asked, face lighting up here.

"You bet! It'll be our long awaited vacation!"

"Well then, I guess I better get things wrapped up. I'll hand this over to our… oh! Hold on! I'm getting a call from our team in Queens! Probably reporting on the progress they've made! If I'm lucky, their investigation is finished and I can FINALLY take some time off! Hold on!" She backed away to answer her phone now as an antenna popped up from her fender.

Smiling at her as she backed away, Miles looked out to the beautiful mountains beyond Anchorage, sighing happily as he studied the majestic vista. Finally… things were going his way. He wasn't sure how it would ultimately end up, but he was ready to at least reveal everything to her and get that first step out of the way.

In a few moments more, Melina returned, seeming quite happy about something. "Well it turns out they've solved the Queens case! They can actually send a few investigators out here to relieve me, though I told them I'm pretty much done here as well! Still, anything further that needs to be done can be taken care of by my relief! We could fly to Taipei tonight, if you wanted to." She suggested here.

"Great! Let's do it! I'll handle the flight, don't worry about that! Oh and I want to say goodbye to a friend I made here!" Miles quickly added.

"Of course… not a problem. I still need to prepare my reports for the incoming team anyway. We'll leave several hours from now, I'd say." Melina replied. "Oh and I need to brief my relief investigator!"

"Great! Well let me go say goodbye and I'll buy us some first class tickets on an Airbus 380!"

"Hm-hm, looking forward to it already!" Melina stated, and Miles turned to head back to where he figured Dusty and Blade would be wrapping up their own training for the day. Honking at the pair as they were standing to the side in the gathering darkness and chatting, Miles braked as he pulled up to them.

"Hopefully this isn't another autograph request." Blade murmured, though mostly wasn't being serious.

"Nope! I just wanted to say… goodbye." Miles said here. "We're leaving tonight for Taiwan, and it has been a REAL pleasure to meet both of you, especially you, Dusty! If it wasn't for you, I never would've gotten the courage to face my past! I must thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart!" he said sincerely.

"Oh, well that's a coincidence. We're going home tomorrow ourselves." Dusty replied. "And hey, Miles. It was very nice to meet you as well! I'm glad I was able to know the real you as opposed to the car you used to be." Dusty winked at him here.

"Yes well… it's a work in progress for sure, but yes… thank you, Dusty. I'll be sure to visit you in Propwash Junction when I can! Maybe after this Taiwan excursion! I'm REALLY looking forward to seeing your town, though!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, causing Dusty to smile.

"I'm sure you'll love it. I'll show you around when you get there. Well, take care of yourself, Miles, good luck on doing what you need to do, and safe flight!"

"You too! And thanks, Blazin'-"

"I'm NOT… Blazin'… Blade…" Blade narrowed his eyes at Axlerod here.

"Ha! I got you to say it! Thanks for the autograph! Ciao! Safe travels!" Miles turned and zipped across the tarmac now, heading back for the building he'd left Melina in, Dusty and Blade watching him go.

"What was that all about?" Blade asked.

"Just helping him come to terms with something, Blade." Dusty replied with a smile. "I'm looking forward to seeing him in Propwash Junction!"

"You sound sure he's gonna show up." Blade commented.

"I am… somehow I just know he's gonna be there." Dusty said simply, still smiling as he watched the Range Rover drive off into the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11: Halloween Storm

**Author's Note:** Action packed and fun chapter to write! And yes, I'm leaving it on a cliffhanger! Thanks for the reviews, as usual! :)

Halloween in Taipei was turning out to be a memorable event for Miles Axlerod and Melina Markham. While Halloween was not a traditional Chinese holiday, it didn't stop the Chinese from celebrating in full stride. Everywhere the streets of the Taiwanese capital were full of cars wearing costumes and custom paint jobs to dress up as monsters, heroes, movie characters, and everything one's imagination could conjure up. It promised to be a wild night, but one that perhaps might be cut short.

Already TVs were buzzing about the oncoming Typhoon Xangsane, which threatened to dampen the holiday under walls of rain and heavy winds. It seemed as if Axlerod had picked the wrong time to visit Taiwan. Xangsane had hit the Philippines on October 27th before it had turned north and was now slowly bearing down on the Chinese island. News reports were stating Xangsane had winds of 85 mph, but was expected to reach 100 mph winds by the time it reached Taiwan.

But Xangsane was still hours away, and wasn't expected to hit in full force until closer to midnight. For now, only a light drizzle fell in the streets, and it wasn't causing anyone any alarm. After flying from Anchorage to Taipei via their new favorite airlines, Singapore Airlines, Miles and Melina had enjoyed some beach time upon some of Asia's most beautiful and picturesque sands, as Taiwan was well known for during the first few days of their stay.

While the Range Rover still hadn't opened up to her yet, he was building up to it tonight. It would all culminate tonight, at the height of the partying and the "feel-good" emotions in the middle of the festive spirit.

"And remember, Typhoon Xangsane could bring winds of up to 100 mph tonight, so it is advised that residents and revelers please stay indoors after 9:30 tonight. I know this might put a damper on your holiday plans, but Taipei is issuing a typhoon warning starting at 9:30 tonight."

"Typhoon warning?" Miles asked, looking up from his plate at the TVs playing in the fancy restaurant he was enjoying his dinner with Melina at. Fish tanks surrounded them, creating an eerie but intimate feeling to the place as it bathed the whole restaurant in blue light. "You don't think it's serious, do you?"

"Well 100 mile an hour winds are nothing to scoff at…" Melina commented, turning to look at the TV behind her.

"Is that like… hurricane force?" Miles asked, growing nervous.

"Yes, Miles. Typhoon is the same thing as a hurricane." Melina explained, turning back to him. "It's a category 2."

"Category 2?" Miles almost spit out his drink. "Isn't that like… serious?"

"Well it's not the most serious you can get." Melina told him. "I mean maybe some shingles will blow off roofs and small trees will definitely be uprooted, but cars like us will be just fine. Of course… I think that means we should stay indoors all the same." She gazed across the table at him seriously.

"Of course! Let's not take any chances!" Miles agreed.

"Now from what I'm seeing though… average wind speed is around 85 miles per hour… so that's only a category 1. I don't think this will be anything too serious. You seem… nervous Miles." She smiled at him here.

"Well of course I'm nervous! We have a typhoon heading here!" Miles exclaimed.

She chuckled a little. "Don't worry. It's not going to be serious. But we'll stay in… no worries on that end. Do storms make you nervous, Miles?" she asked curiously.

"A little! If I'm outside they do! What does Xangsane mean, anyway? Is that Chinese?" he asked, nervously rattling off his words.

"Hm no, it's Laotian. It means "elephant" in their language, and it's probably fittingly named." Melina commented.

"How did you know Laotian?" Miles asked, in disbelief.

She smiled again. "Well I do travel a lot, Miles. I know their naming conventions over here in the Pacific. Still…" she drove around the table now to nuzzle up against him, noting he looked like he was about to shake himself to bits. "Relax… breathe Miles… breathe." She said comfortingly and the Range Rover tried to do just that, taking in a loud exhale before letting it all out with a whoosh. "Theeere you go. Just relax, Miles. We're gonna have a good Halloween and finish up our vacation in style. Do you want another drink?" she asked, chuckling as she noticed he still seemed on edge.

"Maybe that would help." He confessed to her here.

"I'll get you one then… I want you at ease on our holiday, after all." Driving off, she headed over to the bar to order another one for Axlerod.

"Ugh… stupid phobia…" Miles muttered, closing his eyes. "Just relax… like she said… it'll be fine. This is precisely why I like Britain! No hurricanes!" he said to himself. "Rain I can deal with… ugh! Stop it! You're freaking yourself out!" he chided to, getting some stares from some nearby cars.

"Hm-hm, do you always talk to yourself?" He could hear Melina's voice close by now, and his eyes snapped open as she pushed his drink over to him.

"Uhhh… I guess I do when I'm nervous." He admitted.

"Heheh, well just relax. We won't let Typhoon Xangsane rain on our parade."

"Right! We won't!" Miles offered her a nervous smile here.

"Miles you don't have a phobia of storms, do you?" she asked with a smile.

"SEVERE storms, yes!" Miles told her intensely.

"Well this isn't severe. As a matter of fact, big jets could take off safely in category 2s if they wanted to. We're going to be fine. How was your dinner?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Oh it was… um… fine! Yes! Fine!" he said with emphasis, taking a drink now to try and calm his nerves.

"Great… well I'm just about done here, Mr. Billionaire, so shall we head out into the streets for a drive? I want to see more of Taipei's lights."

"Heheh… yes, sure, let's do that." He agreed, flipping his card out onto the table and waiting for their server to collect it. "Um… Melina… I want to tell you about me in a little bit… OK?" he asked earnestly.

"Oh yes… that's right… it's been a few days, hasn't it?" she asked.

"Indeed, it has… and I don't want to delay any further. So later tonight… I'm going to tell you everything about me… OK?" Miles asked hopefully. "And just remember… this is… sensitive stuff… it's stuff I'm trusting you with… and… has the potential to hurt… both of us…"

"While I'd usually say… well then again, there hasn't been a usually as of late for me, so that's out the window. Anyway Miles, I DO want to share this with you… it shouldn't be your burden alone to bear… I'm ready for it… or at least I promise to try and be ready for it. I mean how crazy is it really going to be, after all?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Heh… you might be surprised." Miles said slowly here, taking his card as it was given back to him. He wheeled himself around the table to collect her now.

"Now I'm really curious." She stated as they began driving for the exit. "And thank you, for dinner, by the way."

"My pleasure." He replied softly, staring out ahead of him as he thought about this. They drove out of the restaurant and into the lightly falling rain, Miles snapping on his headlights before realizing he didn't need them thanks to the bright lights of Taipei's streets, which shone dazzlingly overhead in all their neon glory.

"So, where to next? A club? A rooftop somewhere? Trick-or-treating door to door?" Melina joked.

"Heheh! Well uh… I'd love the last option but… I think we're a little old for it. Speaking of which, you're not wearing a costume!" Miles pointed out.

"Neither are you." She responded, chuckling as she kissed his side.

"Yes well… I probably should be, given what might happen tonight!" Miles declared, thinking that a disguise would suit him well.

"Hm-hm, well it is Halloween… anyway, where we going? A drive? A club? Rooftop?" she asked, moving beside him through the crowded city streets.

"Uhhh… I know!" Miles told her suddenly. "It's a nice quiet place we can go and talk… and… I can tell you everything." Miles stated firmly.

"Good… then let's go…" Melina suggested, letting him pull ahead now to lead the way.

* * *

"Well Miles… I have to say… I am officially impressed. How did you get us into Taipei 101?" Melina asked, gazing out at the city as the rain started to fall now, streaking the window with blurry rivulets as the Daimler stood in an empty office inside the large tower.

"Well my… firm used to… well still does I guess, own space here. We haven't liquidated it yet so…" Miles began.

"Wow… you really did believe in the best for your employees, Miles. It's so beautiful up here… I love seeing the lights of the city… and the rain… I love this, Miles." Melina sighed happily as she drove over to the window.

"Um… Melina…" Miles drove up beside her now to look at her. "I… I need to confess… everything to you. I love you…"

"You love me?" she asked, turning to look at him as well.

"Yes… I do. More than anything I've ever loved before in my life. And… I would do anything for you. But… before I tell you who I am… do… you… how do you feel about me?" he asked hopefully.

"Miles… you should know the answer to that by now. You're a sweet Rover… and you're afraid of things… being a lemon… storms… the pain of your past… and Miles all I've wanted to do since meeting you is help you ease that pain. Make you forget your past… or accept it. I look at you and I don't just see a lemon… I see a Range Rover who's deeply considerate of my feelings, who genuinely cares about me, and is one of the nicest cars I've ever met. I do love you, Miles. I'm so thankful for the investigation I was assigned to that led me to you. You're not like other cars, Miles. You cared about my past more deeply than anyone I've ever met. So how do I feel? I love you, Miles McCormick." She said softly, gazing deeply into his eyes.

He was frozen in place, unable to break the gaze, and feeling so right in this moment… but she had called him by the wrong name. It was the only stain to this otherwise perfect night. "I hope you love you me enough…" Miles said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Because… Melina… that's not… my name."

She blinked here, confused. "What?" she asked. "Miles McCormick… isn't your name?"

"I'm… afraid not…" he said slowly here. "The truth is… the truth is…" Axlerod sniffed here, blinking back some tears. "The truth is I'm everything you said… and more. I'm a stupid lemon who leaks oil… but I'm also a crook! And a… a cut-throat! And a… some might even say murderer!"

"Miles… what are you saying? Stop it! You're none of those things! Are you referring to business practices you made" Melina asked, growing worried.

"No! Just… listen, OK? I'm not Miles McCormick! I had to invent a name at the time because I was terrified of getting caught! And then later on I kept using it because… because I was terrified of losing you!" he confessed here, tears rolling down his sides now. "Get ready Melina… my real name… is… Miles Axlerod!" he stated, backing up now a few feet from her, as if the thought of his own name was repugnant to him.

Lightning flashed now in the dark office, throwing an eerie light in the room that lit up Melina's face, and Miles could see it… it was there. The shock… the pain… the suffering…. The disappointment.

"Well?" he asked here. "You know who I am, don't you? I'm not lying to you! It's my name!" He could see tears forming in her own eyes now, and he pursed his lips, steeling himself for what he knew was coming.

"Miles… Axlerod?" Melina asked here, as if she didn't fully understand the name.

"Yes… the crook… the former oil billionaire… initiator of the World Grand Prix and Allinol conspiracy… and… and I only wish I knew you before all that… because you would've made me a better car…" He was crying fully by this point. "You would've changed me for the better… and you have… but too late… because what's done is done… I can't take any of it back… and now… now I just… I just feel like throwing myself into a trash compactor… because of the lies I've told you… you were so honest with me… and I couldn't be honest with." He said in between sobs, his voice cracking.

"Axlerod…" Melina said again, staring at him in the dim light. "Of course… it makes sense now…"

"Yes! It does!" Miles replied, almost defiantly. "And now… now that you know the truth…" But he didn't finish. He gave her a regretful look, and he turned away from her, driving towards the elevators.

"Miles, wait! Where are you going?" she shouted.

"I can't live without you…" he stammered, seemingly on the verge of breaking down.

"Miles, stop!" she called, but he didn't. "Miles!"

"Melina! I've… I don't… I don't deserve someone like you! I'm too ashamed to even look at you!" He could hear her driving after him as he hit the down button.

"Miles!" she called again. "Wait! Wait! I… I'm just shocked, that's all! I… I can't even describe… I don't know, OK? Just please wait!"

He shuddered and convulsed, spinning around to face her. "Don't you think I'm some vicious mastermind plotting to use you for his own ends? Don't you think you should be calling the police right about now? Melina I can't take this anymore! I thought it would make things easier but… but it didn't! I feel like my insides are being shredded apart, tossed around and… banged into smithereens! I CAN'T… deal with this pain! I can't!" he sobbed, shaking his head.

"Miles… stop…" she said softly, moving up to touch him now. "Stop… please…" He froze as he felt her body against his own. "Miles… you lied to me… yes… but… but that pain you felt… the pain you're feeling right now… it's real. It's real. I can tell. Just… please… stop…"

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, sliding open now behind the Range Rover. He was panting heavily, as if he had overworked his engine, and his bottom lip trembled as he started leaking oil. He sighed in exasperation, and closed his eyes. "I have to go."

"Where?" she asked him. "You finally got the courage to tell me this and you have to go? Miles I don't… I don't hate you!" she insisted. "I'm… numbed by this yes but… what you're feeling right now… is real. Would you deny that? Would you deny that you JUST admitted to me that you love me… that you'd do anything for me?"

"I… I…" he sobbed again. "I can't deny that…" he broke down. "I can't…" he sniffed. "Damn me… damn me…"

"Shhh…" she hushed him. "Shhh… I told you I'd help you… you trusted me with this… trust me again… I… I just… can't believe this. I need… I need time to process it all."

"So you… you don't hate me?" Miles asked.

"I'm… wary… but… but Miles…" she backed up now to look at him. "What you felt towards me was real… I know that… I… I just… it's still sinking in that you're Miles Axlerod…" she told him honestly, blinking away some tears as she emphasized his last name.

"Well I am… and you know the truth… and now… And now I've made a mess of the floor again." He sighed, looking down at his oil slick. "I'm so sorry… for deceiving you… but you understand why I had to do it… don't you?" he asked hopefully.

"I… suppose so." She replied vaguely. "But… yes… I do understand." She finally said softly. "I'd like to believe you've changed… but Miles you're an escaped convict…"

"I'll do anything to make you happy!" he quickly cut in. "I'll turn myself in if that's what you want! I would do ANYTHING for you, Melina! Anything! I don't want to hide in the shadows anymore! I don't want to live constantly on the run! I needed to level with you because I want… I want…" he stumbled here, unable to find the words. "I just want you to be happy." He finally concluded. "Nothing else matters to me anymore! Not my revenge, not my being a lemon! Not my past! Just you… I will do… anything for you, Melina." His eyes locked with hers again, and at his words, Melina appeared to soften once more, her unsure exterior relaxing a bit in his presence.

"Miles…" she began, but the dinging of elevator doors interrupted her. Figuring it was just another elevator arriving after he'd pushed down, Miles didn't turn around, but he soon regretted that as a painful electric jolt suddenly traveled through his body, electricity dancing over his form as he cried out in agony, his body convulsing before he collapsed before her. "MILES!" Melina shouted in concern as a silver Aston Martin and purple Jaguar suddenly appeared from behind him, the Range Rover's green body becoming coated in oil as Axlerod fell flat into his own oil slick.

"Back away miss!" Finn ordered, immediately interposing himself between Melina and Miles. Miles was coughing, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

"What are you doing to him? Stop!" Melina ordered, pushing against Finn as she tried to reach Axlerod.

"I said back away!" Finn reiterated. "We're law enforcement, don't worry! Miles Axlerod, we're placing you under arrest to repatriate you back to the UK where you will be returned to prison forthwith! Holley! Secure him!"

"Wait! You can't just arrest him! He's not… he's…" Melina protested, losing her words as quickly as they came into her mind.

"I don't know how you got mixed up with him, miss, but he must've misled you! This is Miles Axlerod, escaped criminal and former mastermind of the Allinol plot! Please stay back!" Finn ordered her again, holding his tire out to block her.

"Miles!" Melina called, though the Range Rover wasn't able to answer, only emitting a groan in response. "Wait! Please! He's changed!" Melina tried to explain. "He's not the same!"

"Miss, you're interfering with a government repatriation! Please stay back! He's an escaped criminal and he must be returned to prison! He's dangerous! You should know who he is!" Finn interjected.

"But I DO know who he is! He's… not what you think he is!" A tow truck was coming out of the elevator now, and promptly hooked Miles up, lifting his rear end off the floor and beginning to tow him away.

"Melina…" Miles said weakly, reaching a tire out for her. "Melina…"

"Miles!" she called. She tried to drive through Finn, but he swiftly blocked her, glaring her down.

"Stop!" He demanded. "If you continue to interfere, we'll be forced to arrest you, too! He's a dangerous criminal, and you're looking awfully suspicious right now miss! This is your final warning!"

Melina gasped, watching helplessly as Miles was loaded into the elevator and Holley followed him in. Revving his engine, Finn turned from her and moved after them. "Good! Let's get him out of here!"

"Miles! I'll-I'll think of something!" she called after him as the elevator doors closed, leaving her alone in the darkened room, with only the falling rain resonating off the windows. She was sobbing without even realizing it, her tires slick with Axlerod's oil from where the Range Rover had been only moments ago. But as she stood there, numbed with shock and uncertainty, she finally looked up, a look of determination crossing her face. "No!" She uttered. Diving into the elevator that Miles had originally summoned, she slammed her tire onto the tire button, mashing it over and over again until the elevator finally began to head downwards. "Come on! Come on!" She urged, waiting as the elevator began its interminable descent. "Come on! Ugh!" she sighed with exasperation, hopping up and down as if it would make the elevator go faster.

After what seemed like an unearthly amount of time, the elevator reached ground level, and dinged as its doors slide open. Melina practically scraped her sides tearing out of them, but the lobby of Taipei 101 was empty save for the security guard sitting behind his desk. Gunning her engine, she flew out of the double doors and into the driving rain, which was pouring down in sheets now. Looking to her right, she could see Miles being loaded up into the back of an armored van. The Aston Martin was taking up position behind the van while the Jaguar took point.

"Ugh!" Melina groaned, noting she was too late. Zooming ahead, she pulled out in front of the van and started racing down the streets of Taipei as fast as she could. If they were repatriating him, there was only one place they'd be bringing him too: Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport. She had to get on the next flight to Britain! If she could beat them there, then maybe she could do something!

The wind was picking up as Typhoon Xangsane approached the island, papers flying out about in the night air and the rain nearly blinding her as the Daimler drove as fast as she safely could towards the airport. The rain was chilling her paint, but she tried to shrug it off as best she could. She knew that if she didn't hurry, there was no way she'd be leaving Taiwan at all, as the typhoon would soon close down the airport once it hit.

Seeing the lights of the airport ahead of her, she produced an extra burst of speed, and piled through the doors of the terminal, driving up to her preferred carrier: Singapore Airlines. "When's the next flight to Britain?" she asked hurriedly.

"Um… we only have one more flight for tonight, and it's to LA." The desk agent responded, checking his computer. "The airport's due to be shutdown soon, so all other flights are canceled tonight. It's boarding in only 20 minutes though… are you sure…"

"Get me on it!" Melina demanded.

"OK… there's still plenty of seats left so…"

"I don't care! Get me on it!" she snapped again.

"Just… calm down, lady. I'm working on it." The agent responded with aggravation. Melina called Axlerod's cell number and prayed silently that he'd pick up. As it was, CHROME's agents hadn't deactivated his phone yet, and an answer sounded on the third ring.

"Melina?" she could hear Axlerod's voice weakly on the other end.

"Miles! I'm at the airport! I'm catching the last flight off the island! I'm going to try and get to Britain ahead of you! Just… I'm not giving up on you!" she said hurriedly as her boarding pass was printing.

"Oh… first class or…" the agent began.

"Do I look like I care?" Melina snapped angrily at the timid agent. "Just… not first class." She added.

"O… K… you're booked on Singapore Airlines Flight 006 to Los Angeles, departing at 11:00 from Gate B5. You've got only…"

"I know!" Melina responded, swiping her pass.

"Are you checking any luggage?" But Melina was already gone, driving off for security and the gate now.

"Miles do you understand?" she asked again.

"I do…" he answered.

"Good! I'm gonna have to change planes in LA, but I'm not giving up! I'm getting on this flight!" she shouted. "I'll talk to you soon!" Hanging up, she only hoped security wouldn't delay her unnecessarily before she could board…

Outside the airport, the armored van Miles was being transported in was waved through terminal security thanks to Finn having direct access to the tarmac. They were delayed briefly however by customs, who had to ascertain the nature of the transfer and make sure nothing was being smuggled out of the country. The delay was enough, and Melina was able to board her flight before Miles had even made it through the outer terminal checkpoints.

The rain continued to fall in sheets as Melina found her seat towards the back of the aircraft. "Ugh, great! I should've said first class!" she moaned, realizing first class would get to deplane first in LA. Maybe she could find an empty seat towards the front after the flight had taken off. Strapping herself in, she had made it with one minute to spare.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen." The captain's voice came through the intercom. "I'm Captain Foong Chee Kong, and with me tonight on the flight deck is First Officer Latiff Cyrano. We're the last plane cleared for departure tonight, as Typhoon Xangsane is closing in. However, as of right now, winds are still within acceptable takeoff parameters, so we're gonna be pushing back from the gate here momentarily and begin our taxi. We'll be keeping a close eye on the wind speeds, and if we find they're too high, we'll abort our takeoff and get you back to the gate. Safety is our number one priority here on Singapore Airlines, so please just relax, sit back, and enjoy your flight to Los Angeles. Approximate flight time will be 12 and a half hours, and provided we get out ahead of the typhoon, we'll be clear all the way to LA. Cabin crew, please prepare the cabin for departure." Captain Kong ordered, and the lights dimmed as Melina could hear the big 747's engines spooling up and coming to life, the hiss of the AC echoing through the cabin as the air vents kicked on.

Melina waited impatiently as the plane pushed back from the gate and started its taxi. Glancing outside, the weather was still nasty as the rain pummeled Captain Kong's body and face, the big jet wearing special glasses to protect his eyes. "Singapore 006, cleared to taxi to Runway Five Left via taxiway Sierra Sierra West Cross and November Papa." Came the tower's instructions.

"Roger that, tower, Runway Five Left via Sierra Sierra West Cross and November Papa. Singapore 006." Captain Kong responded. "Really coming down out there." He commented to his first officer, Latiff Cyrano.

"Yeah… can barely see anything." Cyrano responded.

"OK let's take this slow… keep an eye on the winds… if they get above the parameters, let me know cause we're going back to the gate." Captain Kong instructed.

"Copy that, sir. Right now still within acceptable bounds." Cyrano replied. Both of the flight crew were extremely careful, and had excellent safety records. Despite the tricky nature of the night, both were accustomed to taking off in the middle of typhoons. Captain Kong crept down the taxiway at a crawl, the driving rain cascading off his body as he inched forward along Sierra Sierra West Cross heading for November Papa. He asked for constant updates on the wind speeds from Cyrano, who dutifully relayed them.

The delay seemed unconscionable to Melina. This was the longest taxi she'd ever taken in her life. The jet was just inching along, taking it slow as she looked out over the dark airport.

Outside, the armored van finally arrived at Siddeley, who would be taking Miles back to Britain. "Quite the storm!" Siddeley yelled. "I'm not sure it's within acceptable parameters for an aircraft of my size!"

"We'll have to make due! There's only one runway open at present, and it's being used by a Singapore Airlines jet! We'll have to wait for it to liftoff!" Finn called back, opening the back of the van to reveal Axlerod. The Rover was mostly conscious now, and gazed listlessly back at McMissile.

"How did you find me?" he asked simply.

"Traffic and airport cameras! We've been asking all relevant agencies to transmit any potential hits they got on you right to us, and it paid off!" Finn responded. "Come on out!" he ordered, and Miles obeyed, driving down into the pounding rain. They were on a taxiway at the airport, and off in the distance, Miles could see a colorfully painted blue, orange and white Singapore Airlines' jet taxing through the darkness. That must be Melina! Good! She was getting out ahead of them.

"All right, disable his cell phone! Hook him up with a boot!" Finn ordered, and Holley brought up her computer, beginning to work into tapping into Miles's cell phone to disable it.

As Captain Kong continued his taxi down November Papa, the latest updates looked good regarding the wind. Turning right onto the runway, Captain Kong lined himself up along the white lines below his nose gear, and sat there as he waited for takeoff clearance.

"Look at that." Cyrano called in.

"What? I can't see more than 20 feet in front of me!" Kong replied.

"Your PFD says we're slightly off." Cyrano was referring to the Primary Flight Display, which was an instrument that was supposed to line up with a beacon on the runway to indicate they were in the right spot. But Cyrano could see the indication seemed to be off a bit. The center target wasn't centered, but was over to the left.

"Impossible!" Kong called back. "I can SEE the runway in front of me! I'm on it! Let's just go!" he urged. It had taken them 15 minutes to taxi, and he was eager to beat the storm now.

"Well… OK…" Cyrano responded after a moment's hesitation. "I can see the runway too… looks like you're on it. This is Singapore 006, we are ready for takeoff." The first officer radioed into the tower as he quickly ran through the takeoff checklist.

"Singapore 006, roger that. Cleared for takeoff, Runway Five Left. Have a safe flight!"

"Thanks!" Kong replied. "Throttle up! Let's get outta here!"

"Roger that! Throttling up!" Cyrano pushed Captain Kong's throttle levers forward now, the big plane's engines whining as they increased speed and he rolled forward, beginning his run down Five Left. The rain was slashing into him now, hitting him with force as he rocketed east, gaining speed every foot he traveled.

"Ugh!" he called, spitting water out of his mouth as he roared down the runway. His body shook as he reached V1 speed.

"V1!" Cyrano called out to him.

"V1!" Kong replied back, which indicated he had reached the speed at which aborting the takeoff would be impossible. "Rotate!" He ordered, indicating that Cyrano needed to prepare to pull back on the control stick to lift him off the ground.

But as he hurtled through the darkness and driving rain, something black loomed up in his vision directly ahead of him on the runway… something that was murkier and more distinct than the darkness around him… something that wasn't supposed to be there at all… and it was only getting closer as he drove towards it. "What?" he asked. "THERE'S SOMETHING THERE!" He shouted, taken by surprise as the distance closed. It was too late to turn, too late to break, too late to do anything…

Captain Foong Chee Kong suddenly yelled in agony as his nose gear struck something on the runway and broke off. "GAAAGGGH!" He shrieked in pain as his nose fell onto the runway and his left wing suddenly ripped off as it too struck something and was wrenched from his body. "GAARRRRRGGGH!" He cried out, crashing down onto the runway and feeling his fuselage break in two behind him.

Fireballs erupted as his wing tanks exploded, sending out blasts of orange and red into the night sky. Miles gasped as the fireballs lit his vision, exploding in his eyes and causing him to freeze as he stared, riveted as Singapore Airlines Flight 006 burst into flames on the runway before him. "No! NO! MELINA!" Miles yelled, racing forward without a moment's thought right as Holley was moving to place the boot on him. "MELINA!"

"AXLEROD! STOP!" Finn ordered as he drew his machine guns and revved his engine as he took off in in pursuit of the fleeing Range Rover into the growing storm.


	12. Chapter 12: Conclusions

**Author's Note: **Aww! I'm sad to see this one end, but I hope you like the exciting and hopefully fulfilling conclusion! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, and it was a real joy writing this one! Dedicating this chapter to the 83 people who were killed Halloween night, 2000 in the crash of Singapore Airlines Flight 006. Also dedicated to those who survived, and escaped with their lives. Once again, thank you SO MUCH for reading and reviewing! It was a real pleasure taking this journey with you, and be looking for my next fic to be debuting soon, featuring Dusty Crophopper! :D

**Back to the Story**

As Captain Foong Chee Kong burned on the runway, he couldn't possibly have known that his own caution and careful taxiing had worked against him. He'd been so fixated on watching the wind speeds and the weather that he'd slowed down during his taxiing, taking it nice and lengthy to be cautious and keep his passengers safe. However, the taxiing had taken so long that he accidentally turned onto Runway Five Right and not Five Left, as he'd been ordered to take. He turned 700 feet too soon, his slow taxiing having fooled him into thinking he'd traveled much further than he really had.

As it was, Runway Five Right was closed: construction equipment including excavators, scoop loaders, and cranes had been quietly asleep on Runway Five Right, completely unaware that a massive jumbo jet would be hurtling towards them out of the darkness and rain. Captain Kong's nose gear had struck a scoop loader, tearing off before his left wing had collided with a crane. Rather stupidly, the airport authorities had put up no barriers or signs to indicate the runway was closed, nor had they switched off any of the runway's lights. Captain Kong had been advised about the closure beforehand, but he'd been so fixated on the approaching typhoon he failed to notice that he was standing on Runway Five Right, and not Five Left. His caution had been thrown to the wind, quite literally, since he was focusing on the wind and not which runway he was on.

Tragically, Cyrano had noticed the mistake on the PFD, but both pilots assumed it was a slight mistake and ignored it. To make matters worse, the airport wasn't yet equipped with ground radar, so controllers could neither visually see the plane through the heavy rain and darkness nor tell it was on the wrong runway via radar that didn't exist.

These numerous errors had conspired to cause Captain Kong to collide heavily with construction equipment on a runway that was supposed to be closed, and now he was burning and in pieces as the rain fell around him. Coughing, his first officer, Latiff Cyrano, who had survived, came to. "Ugggh… what the… Captain Kong! Captain Kong?" Cyrano exclaimed, unbuckling himself from his seat and trying to see if his captain was still alive.

"I'm here! I'm here!" Kong responded, hacking. "Just get the passengers out! Get the passengers out! Don't worry about me! I can't move! Help the passengers!" he ordered, and Cyrano hesitated only a moment before realizing there was nothing he could do for his captain, and he bolted out of the cockpit towards the cabin, attempting to lead the way to try and help as many passengers as he could.

Outside, currently racing towards the burning aircraft, Miles was pushing his engine for all it was worth. Gunfire erupted from behind him as Finn's machine guns let loose, aiming to bring down the errant car, but Miles wasn't stopping for anything. The high winds and rain lashing the two of them threw off Finn's aim, and he hit nothing in the darkness, fortunately for Axlerod. "AXLEROD!" he could hear Finn yelling behind him, but Miles ignored the warning, driving on into the blinding rain.

He could only see the glowing fire ahead of him, as everything was blurry from how heavy the rain was. It drove itself into his windshield, practically blinding him as the raindrops thrashed against his body, the very storm itself trying to hold him back from his beloved, or so it seemed. But he wasn't stopping now! If nothing else, he had to reach her! Little did he know that he was living up to the very thing Dusty had wanted to see him in: he was now fully willing to put himself in danger and even sacrifice himself if it meant saving the life of the one he loved.

Swerving to further throw off Finn's aim, the Range Rover could hear his engine knocking rather badly, and he knew he was pushing himself to the limit. Willing himself onward even despite his engine protesting loudly, he gave out a cry as he thought of Melina trapped within the aircraft. Terrible visions of TWA Flight 800 flashed through his mind now… no… NO! Half her family had died on that flight! He COULDN'T let the same thing happen to her now! He COULDN'T let her father suffer through that again!

Hearing his engine backfire, Miles pushed himself beyond his endurance, not stopping for an instant as he drove up to the burning flight. Already passengers were starting to stream outwards, collapsing onto the wet tarmac in the rain and wind as they appeared dazed and lost. Not seeing Melina among them, Miles began to panic. "MELINA!" he called. "MELINA ANSWER ME!" Seeing the flames curling over the broken shell of Captain Kong, Miles could see several ways into the fuselage. Most involved getting dangerously close to flames, which could set his fuel tank off, but not seeing the Daimler, he decided to enter into the wreck.

Steeling himself, he ground his teeth and drove forward, praying his engine wouldn't give out as he dove through some flames, crying out in paine as they licked his body and scalded his sides, causing his paint to blister as he made it into the burning aircraft. "MELINA!" he cried, glancing from left to right. He'd entered the plane close to the tail, and he struggled to see through the smoke and flames, which seemed to lap around him on all sides.

Looking towards the back of the plane, Miles gasped when he caught sight of the maroon and silver body of Melina. She was dented, banged up, her beautiful body smashed from where she'd been thrown against the side of the plane from the impact, but she was alive. She was struggling to undo her safety restraints, and looked shocked and confused as to what was going on.

"Melina!" Miles cried, driving over to her now.

Coughing, Melina fixed him with bleary eyes. "Miles?" she asked, appearing uncertain at seeing him.

"Melina hold on! I'm getting you out!" he called, slamming his wheel down on her safety restraint and snapping it off of her.

"Is it you?" he heard her ask weakly.

"Yes! I'm so sorry! I'm NEVER leaving you again! NEVER!" Miles sobbed, choking on the acrid smoke that filled the cabin. It stung his eyes and forced its way down his mouth, causing him to hack. "We're gonna go out the back! The emergency door is open back there! Come on!" he pushed her out of her seat, forcing her out into the aisle. "Come on don't stop! Don't stop!"

"Miles… my wheel…" she indicated her right front wheel was bent at a sickening angle.

"Dammit!" he whispered, noticing the damage. "All right hold on!" he ordered, and revved his engine, pushing himself against her as the flames lapped closer and closer…

"Miles… don't do this…" she coughed.

"Nonsense! I'm not leaving you!" he shouted, pushing her towards the door.

"You came back… for me…"

"Of course I do! I love you, Melina! Don't give up! Help me out! I'm going to get you out of here!" he reiterated, pushing against her even as he felt his engine starting to fail. "No… NO! NOT NOW!" he yelled, pushing himself in order to force her towards the door. Closer… closer… but the roof was starting to melt, and burning fragments of ceiling were falling all about them now.

The rubber on Miles's right front tire caught fire, and he cried, stamping it out as desperately as he could as he kept moving. He could feel something else burning though… it was on his backside! His spare must be on fire! That wasn't good! If the fire reached his fuel tank he'd be all done!

"Gah!" Forcing himself forward, his engine sputtered and stalled. "Dammit NOT NOW!" he yelled, frantically trying to restart it. It coughed a few times, then finally turned over and started up again with a groan."Yes! That's it!" Burning rubber, he again tried to force Melina towards the exit. Only a few more feet, and suddenly, she was out, the rain dumping on her as Miles's engine again gave out. "NO!" he yelled, realizing he only had moments to live. But fortunately, someone crashed into his rear and pushed him out as well as another passenger struggled to get out of the burning wreck.

Rolling up to her as best he could, Miles let out a sigh of relief as the rain once more lashed his body and helped extinguish the flames on his backside. He was burned, but he couldn't tell how badly. He was more concerned with her. Looking her over, he was suddenly yanked away from the burning plane by a grappling hook, as was Melina. Finn had fired off his fender hooks, tugging both cars away from the dancing flames. "You crazy Rover! What were you doing? You saved this young car?" Finn asked, in disbelief at what he'd just witnessed.

"Melina… Melina…" Miles called softly to her, his engine all but dead as he saw her lying there with her eyes closed. "Melina…" He nuzzled her hopefully, deciding he couldn't live if she didn't. He would die here and now if she didn't wake up…

Her eyes fluttered, and she raised them with some difficulty. "Miles…"

"Melina!" he exclaimed happily, feeling as if he'd been hit by a train, but indescribably pleased that she was alive, feeling as if his gearbox could explode with relief. He nuzzled up against her, closing his eyes in relief.

"Miles… thank you…" she whispered.

He then felt something familiar beneath him that wasn't the rain… it was thicker and floated on top of the water underneath their wheels. "Melina…" Miles opened his eyes now to look into her own. "You're leaking oil…" he smiled here, nuzzling her again affectionately.

"So I am…" she confessed, sheepishly looking down.

"You said you'd never do it in front of me…"

"I lied…" she chuckled lightly here, coughing again to try and clear her innards from the smoke she'd inhaled.

He sighed, closing his eyes again as his body began to leak oil rather heavily, and letting the flashing lights he'd seen lull him to a near sleep as ambulances raced to the scene and rescue workers arrived to help the badly wounded and those who had escaped from Singapore Airlines Flight 006.

* * *

Of the 159 passengers and 20 crew on board Singapore Airlines 006 that Halloween night, 71 suffered injuries but survived, while 96 survived in total and 83 perished, many of them in the wing sections of the aircraft, as those had been the first to explode. Despite the massive burns, Captain Kong survived, as did his first officer, Latiff Cyrano. While Kong was a burned out husk, his cockpit hadn't been touched by fire, and rescuers deemed he could be salvaged.

Thanks to Melina sitting in the back of the plane, she'd escaped the most serious of the fires that had raged over the wings and middle sections of the 747. Taiwan's Taoyuan International Airport was immediately fitted with ground radar to prevent this tragedy from ever repeating, and the airport's safety procedures were updated to ensure no plane could ever take off on a closed runway again.

All told, Typhoon Xangsane claimed 181 lives during its run; 83 of those died aboard Flight 006. But 96 had survived, and the disaster could have been far worse…

* * *

Dusty Crophopper zoomed over Propwash Junction, going for a late morning flight as he twisted and turned and dove. He'd lost almost none of his maneuverability since gaining his pontoons, and still enjoyed a good flight every morning to keep his engine in shape.

As he lined up for his landing, he could see Skipper Riley waiting for him by the side of the tarmac, which was curious, as Skipper had declined to join him this morning. Bumping down onto the uneven pavement that he so loved about Propwash Junction, Dusty coasted to a stop and idled his engine, then killed it altogether. "Hey Skip! What's up?" he asked. "Why'd you miss our morning flight?"

"Dusty, it seems you have some visitors." Skipper smiled, and moved aside to reveal two very familiar cars to the firefighter.

"Miles! Investigator Markham! What are you two doing here?" Dusty asked, brightening upon seeing them.

"Just fulfilling a promise I made a month ago." Miles replied, smiling in reply.

"So how did… you told her, didn't you?" Dusty asked, grinning.

"I did…" Miles responded with a slow nod, his eyes closing.

"And… what about your past? Is it OK for you to be here?"

Miles winced a bit as his eyes opened. His back was still burned, but he'd received a new paint job at least, though still felft pain back there. As for Melina, she looked good as new, thanks to Miles generously paying for a full body restoration on the beautiful Daimler. "Well… about that… yes it's OK. I'm staying awhile." Miles answered vaguely.

"OK… and… how long exactly?" Dusty asked.

"Well…" Miles looked over at Melina here, who smiled at him. "You heard about Singapore Airlines Flight 006?" he asked the firefighter.

"Yeah! That sounded bad! I thought of you guys cause I knew you were vacationing in Taiwan!" Dusty exclaimed.

"Melina was on it…"Miles stated simply.

"Really?" Dusty asked incredulously, looking over at her.

"Yes but… I was saved… by a dashingly handsome Range Rover." She beamed as she kissed Axlerod's side. "He braved flames, smoke, and falling debris to get me out."

"He DID?" Dusty exclaimed, grinning as he looked over at Axlerod in sheer joy.

"I did…" Miles responded. "And thanks to my 'meritorious and noble deed' in saving the life of an NTSB investigator, the British court decided to reappraise my case."

"Well that's GREAT! What did they decide on?" Dusty asked eagerly.

"Well… I must donate most of my remaining funds to several charitable organizations of my choice… I can keep roughly 10% of it… but on a few conditions." Miles began. "I'm henceforth sentenced to five years' probation, strictly monitored of course. I must choose a reputable profession once my probation is up, and I already know what I'm going to choose." He looked over at Melina here. "I'm going to become an air crash investigator for the NTSB… so that I can be with the car I love and help make our skies safer."

Melina gazed affectionately back at him, and the two cars kissed now, causing Dusty to grin. "Great! So what are the terms of your probation?"

"Ah yes…" Miles pulled back from the kiss. "I have to do community service for well… five years basically. I'm choosing to give back to a community that's smaller and quite possibly in need. Which is why…" Miles trailed off here, looking up at Dusty. "My stay here will be five years… and maybe longer if I like it." He chuckled.

"WHAT?" Dusty could hardly believe this, almost toppling over from excitement. "HERE?"

"Yes… I'm choosing to give back to your community, Dusty, in thanks for all you've done for me." Axlerod said sincerely.

"I don't believe this! You're doing your community service here? Miles that's… that's great!"

"And…" Miles continued, smiling here. "I'm covering the debt you incurred both for your certification and for upgrading your fire truck as the first step of my community service."

"You ARE?" Dusty practically squeaked, looking like he was about to explode.

"Yes… it's on me. Thank you for everything, Dusty." Miles said softly.

"Axlerod… I don't know what to say! I… I don't know if we can accept this!" Dusty stammered.

"You have no choice, I'm afraid. The British court ruled it as such." The Range Rover chuckled here. "So you're welcome."

"Miles this is… I'm SO happy to see you doing this!" Dusty sniffed, feeling some tears come to his eyes.

"Oh and… one more thing." Miles added.

"There's MORE?"

"Yes… but it's personal." He turned to face Melina here, feeling time slow as he gazed at her. "Melina Markham… you've changed me for the better, and without you, I don't know what kind of Range Rover I'd be. But I've learned to live for you these past few months… and I never want to stop doing so. You accepted me for who I was from the start, and you never once rejected me. I can't live without you… and so… would you do me the honor… of becoming Mrs. Melina Axlerod?" he asked her here, smiling widely as he gazed into her eyes.

"Miles…" she replied breathlessly, even though she'd been expecting this. "There's no one I'd rather spend the rest of my life with… than you. Yes… yes I will!" she exclaimed, kissing him deeply now as she practically crashed into him. "I love you Miles Axlerod!" she whispered after they broke the kiss.

"Awww!" Dusty sighed, smiling at the two. "Congratulations!"

"Well! Why don't you show me around? I promised I'd visit! And if I'm going to be staying… AND getting married here…" Axlerod winked at Melina now. "I'd love to see the town!"

"It would be my pleasure, Miles!" Dusty replied warmly. "Well you're standing in front of the Fill 'N Fly, which is our gas station slash garage. Over there is Skipper's hanger, and up ahead…" Dusty began leading Miles and Melina throughout the small town, the two cars nuzzling against each other as they followed after the firefighter, Axlerod eager to start his new life in Propwash Junction.


End file.
